


Lions Guard

by TypewriterArms (TypewriterarmsLG)



Category: NaPolA | Before the Fall (2004)
Genre: AU, M/M, Modern, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 72,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7808287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypewriterarmsLG/pseuds/TypewriterArms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Modern AU where Friedrich, Albrecht, and others attend a modern Napola school. </p><p>"A story about the beauty of youth, but also the cruelty of growing up".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> If you see any mistakes, please message me on tumblr; Lionsguardacademy.tumblr.com.
> 
> I should forewarn you; as the Author, I absolutely hate the first few chapters. They're rough and about a year older than everything Chapter 6/7 onward, and thus reflect a different type of writing style. I intend on re-writing them, but not until I finish this.

The years is 2016: we find ourselves in the booming nation of Alte-Koniggratz; a colossal, cultured nation ruled by Emperor Stein with a firm but even hand from the capitol city of Konigsberg. We begin with the camera moving through the city, highlighting different monuments, important buildings, and perhaps even some of the important government officials. The camera slows to a stop in front of a large marble-pillar gate, impressive buildings seen off in the distance. Before the gate lie two large, sandstone lions: a symbol of this place; the Lions Guard Academy.

 **Its Motto:** "Men make History, but we make the men."

The Lions Guard Academy, on the outskirts of Konigsberg, has one ultimate purpose: to house, groom, train, and ship out the nations future leaders. Here, boys are turned into men, and men into leaders. Jungemann are forced to compete in everything they do, and if they don't, they face the consequences. Relentless hazing, most notably physical male-on-male violence, is outright smiled upon in this extremely competitive school, whose outlook on the subject is that it either builds its students up or weeds out the weaker ones.

The saying 'everyone is good at something' is brought to the extreme here: mostly because you must be the best at something to even gain entrance, not meeting up to your expectations results in not only ridicule and scolding, but physical punishments and perhaps even expulsion. Even in relation to the arts, music, you are forced to compete. Everyone has a position, even young people, and the better you are the higher in ranking you are.

Our story follows Friedrich, whose boxing abilities gained him entrance into the elite, one of a kind academy. Publicly, he joined against his parents wishes because of their opposing political convictions and his hoping for a better life away from the farm he grew up on. Privately, he left the countryside because of his desire for more freedom and a place with people more like him. Well, that and his disclosing his sexuality to his parents resulted in a massive fight between he and his father. That night, he forged his father's signature on the acceptance letter to the academy, packed a suitcase and headed off for the capitol city, hours away.

The Lions Guard Academy was supposed to have everything, little did Friedrich know it had more than he could ever imagine: violence and hazing on a scale unimaginable to most, a rigid military structure favorable to those related to those already in power, and even blatant cover-ups of crimes. It wasn't all bad, though: tough fights and hard fought victories, close friendships and even closer romance made it all worthwhile. And, hey, you were guaranteed a shiny government position later in life for graduating here, right?


	2. Chapter 2

That night sucked.  


  
It had been raining for two days, and that night seemed to be the climax of the storm. The rain pelted down from the dark, night sky like the worst hailstorm imaginable. I'd left the courthouse earlier that morning and had been wandering the streets of Königsberg since, hoping to find some answers to all of the questions I'd been left with. It wasn't that I wasn't happy with the turn of events with the court case, but even a verdict like that didn't answer all of the questions I'd had.  
  
I found myself wandering past a bar at about ten, and stopped in the light of the blinking neon signs, the large blinking one reading "Frank's Bierhaus". I thought for a moment, and eventually wandered in, more for the warmth than anything else. I walked slowly to the end of the bar, pulling off the hood of my jacket while I took in the sights of the bar. There were less than half a dozen people: three sat at a round table laughing and enjoying their beers, one large man sat in the middle of the bar drinking a stout, and the bartender who watched me as I took a seat at the far right end. 

  
The bartender watched me as I drew my wallet, scanning the shelf of bottles behind him before glancing to his face, which offered a polite smile as he rubbed the bar's counter with a rag. I nodded back, and he came over, taking my order as he stood under the light of a florescent bulb.  
  
"Whiskey over rocks, sir" I asked as I passed the money over to him, "mix some diet soda in with it if you would".  
  
"Yes sir" he responded. I watched as he drew a bottle from the middle shelf and mixed the drink together before sliding it over the bar to me. I nodded, holding the cold glass in my hand for a moment before taking a long sip. The bartender spoke up after a little while, breaking the pattern of drunken laughter and the music box playing a folk song.  
  
"So you're in the youth?" He questioned, motioning towards my uniform.  
  
"Yes sir" I responded respectfully. "You need ID?"  
  
"Nah. I was when I was younger, back when it was compulsory- don't know how you kids do it anymore with all of those new requirements"  
  
"Well, its tough, but its certainly an experience. Supposed to hope with job opportunities in the future, you know?"  
  
"Yeah, thats what I hear. So what unit you a part of?"  
  
"Lions Guard"  
  
The bartender dropped a glass on the counter, seemingly by accident, after I said that sentence. I watched the glass roll across the table for a while before looking up at him, a surprised reaction on his face.  
  
"You go to the academy?" he asked  
  
"Yes sir"  
  
He stayed silent for a moment, but was about to say something as the big man sitting down the bar beckoned him over for another bottle. It was at this point that I noticed this man occasionally looking over at me, a snare in his mouth and a squint in his eyes. He seemed about forty-five, and his jet-black hair combed back reminded me far too much of Erik's. I sighed, looking back down at my glass and eventually taking another sip of it before I noticed the bartender coming back over.  
  
"Whats your name?" he questioned.  
  
"Siegfried" I responded, lying. I didn't want to give him my name, though only lord knows why. Surely no one had heard about the court case: the school was careful to keep scandal out of the public eye, and it was part of my being allowed to stay in the academy, and by extension away from my parents, that it stayed out of the public's eye. The bartender continued to clean glasses, occasionally trying to make small talk with me as I slowly had my drink.  
  
"Hows the academy? I understand its the best in the country"  
  
"Its got its perks" I responded shortly. I think that it was then that the bartender realized I wasn't much of the talking type, at least not on a day like this. After a moment, the big man down the bar spoke up.  
  
"Leave the kid there by himself, come down and wait on a real man" he remarked. My eyes narrowed and the shallow smile I had on my face, directed towards the bartender, faded away quickly. I glanced over at him, and he had an enfuriating grin on his face, watching the bartender slowly move away from me and towards him. I rolled my eyes and looked back down at my glass, thinking over and over the testimony that I had given in the past few days, and began to think back to the evening that caused this mess.  
  
My mind wasn't able to delve too deep into itself before the big man down at the end of the bar continued to mock me. He looked up at the bartender and said that he'd "have to find shorty a couple of glasses of milk so he'd grow" as his piercing eyes and hideous smile tried to chicken me out of the bar. I sighed, taking the final swig from my glass before I looked up at him.  
  
"Sir" I started slowly "Mind yourself or I’ll make you mind it.".  
  
All drinking stopped, and the tick of the clock was the only sound. The three drunken gentlemen over at their round table nearby fell silent, and I could feel their looks on the back of my head.  
  
"Oh really? Why don’t you make me, punk." the big one responded.  
  
"Leave the kid alone" the bartender remarked.  
  
The big man laughed with a billowing wheeze, eventually looking up at the bartender who stood before him drying a glass with the response of "Oh piss off". He eventually looked back over to me, eventually saying something:  
  
"Little kid thinks he's got spunk just because he goes to some high society school for the government. Well he'd still be just as much of a fag whether he went to the Lion's Guard academy or not!"  
  
I slammed my glass down onto the counter, trying to contain my anger. That was the absolute last thing I needed to hear this evening, and I knew I'd either break down or fly into a fit of rage if I didn't control myself, but after a few more incoherent jabs at me I spoke up.  
  
"Its clear you're here for trouble mister" I remarked. I stared him down, and as he was about to open his mouth I continued with "and troubles something I try to shun, but if your wrinkled ass insists-"  
  
He stormed up from his stool at that point, and started to rush over towards me. The gentlemen at their table started to hoot and hollar as I rose, yelling "kick his ass". I couldn't tell who they were rooting for, and I didn't really care. The big man came rumbling towards me, his arm raised high as if he had already prepared his strike. As he closed in and swung, I could feel my mind switch over from normal mode to the strategic one that came out during boxing matches.  
  
Alright, he's about six foot two and at least three hundred pounds. Just a few jabs and a punch to the stomach and you'll have him to the ground.  
  
He swung, and everything moved into slow motion. I stood in stance, and watched his fist pour through the sky and towards my face: I dodged my head down, brought it back up after his arm came around fully, and almost caused him to spin himself around in a circle. I brought my fists up and drove one straight into his stomach, watching him stumble backwards on himself and onto a table. Cheers came from the group of three drunken men and I smirked, watching as the big man slowly found his footing and looked at me angrily.  
  
He moved forward, trying to punch me directly in the face. I could hear my coach yelling "slip!" in the back of my head, and moved my head forward and to the side as he came too close to correct his punch, causing him to fall forward. I spun around and moved forward, kicking him into an empty table and watching him crash to the ground. I watched as he laid there, struggling to get up, eventually rolling onto his back. His nose was bleeding profusely and was bent in a strange, contorted way that made me believe it was broken. He gave me that same shiteating grin from before, and the billowing laugh returned, filling the silent air of the bar. The bartender walked over, remarking to me "You do go to the academy."  
  
"Yup" I remarked, "and nobody calls me a fag but me." I remarked, directing the latter comment to the big man lying on the ground, cupping his nose. He rolled his eyes, and as I headed out of the bar, I left him with a final remark: "Make sure not to tell your parole officer you got beat by a fag".  
  
I was well down the street and halfway back to the academy before the police probably arrived. I walked for half an hour more, eventually reaching the side gates of the academy and scanning my card, standing there in the damp cold air as the gate slowly slid open.  
  
The campus was pitch black and dead quiet: curfew was far past but I had an exception because of the court case that wouldn't expire for another week, eventually making my way across campus, into my dorm building and into my empty room. I sat on my bunk, staring across at the empty other side of the room, the mattress removed and all of Erik's belongings long gone. I sighed: he was gone, but things weren't going to get easier, that was for sure.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

0600 hours, or six am, comes far too early, especially after a long night out. It was at six am sharp that the bugles outside my open window began to blare, and I awoke to the taste of Iron in my mouth. I rose slowly at first, licking my lips in confusion before stepping out of bed and walking over to the standing mirror in my room. I stared in confusion for a moment, rubbing my eyes as my vision cleared. Looking back at me was the same five foot nine, bright blond haired twenty year old that always stood in the mirror: but something was different.  


I didn't realize until now that apparently I had been hit the night before, though I couldn't figure out when it happened. Maybe the adrenaline had taken over and I hadn't felt it until now, but there was a long line of blood running from the midst of my hairline down the bridge of my nose and across my mouth. My head didn't seem to hurt where the blood had been coming from before it healed over, but then again I'd had my long list of injuries from boxing and dealing with the shit the guys at the academy had put me through.  
  
Ever since the case went public through the grapevine, probably starting at Erik, I'd been the target of innumerable guys who were trying to "climb up the ladder". This was a stupid move in most of their cases; I hadn't been accepted here on a boxing scholarship for nothing, but when you get ganged up on by five or six people, sometimes even more, it tends to be pretty hard to fend for yourself. I guess people thought it would be easy to beat down on a gay guy, whether it be from stereotypes or something else, but they usually learned their lesson.  
  
I rubbed the side of my face in confusion and eventually grabbed my shower kit, fresh uniform and towel, making my way out of my room and locking it on the way. I stepped down the long, quiet hallway: none of the other troops seemed to have gotten out of their rooms yet, and as I made my way down the stairs the eerie quietness filled the air: I'd probably be lucky enough to get enough hot water this morning to wash the blood off. I eventually found my way to the locker room, undressing and throwing my things into my locker before stepping into the empty marble communal shower and turning on the water.  
  
There's something about hot water on an apparently fresh wound that hurts like fucking hell. Guess I should have thought about that before I turned the steaming hot water on, eh?  
Then again, there's also something about standing in a hot shower, early in the morning after a nights rain, that lets peace flow through you like a river.  
About fifteen minutes into my shower, and just as I was beginning to actually wake up, was when the other guys started to show up. It was piecemeal at first, some of the other early risers and platoon leaders who had to be finished up early for roll call and morning parade, and I made small talk with the few early regulars before shutting the water off and moving to my locker, beginning to get changed.  
  
Before I knew it, the locker room was filled with guys from our dorm building, the hustle and bustle of hundreds of 18-24 year old guys completely over-extending my brains early-morning lack of capacity. I began to get dressed, and was about halfway through before trouble started. At first I took it for mere accident: someone bumping into me as they walked past my locker on the corner of the aisle, but then it happened a second and a third time. I eventually looked up to find a group of three guys standing nearby watching me: all three of them close friends of Eriks, and all three of whom looked pretty pissed.  
  
"What's up fag?" one of them questioned.  
  
I ignored them the best I could, at least for a little while. When it was clear I wasn't going to respond, he got violent. He stepped over and shoved me away from my locker, his voice raising and shouting out in a demanding tone;  
  
"I said, What's UP fag?"  
  
Two of the guys whose lockers were in the same small grouping as mine looked up confused at what happened, and one of them quickly slipped out and towards the showers. The other one, my platoon commander, stood watching as he pulled his pants on.  
  
"Fuck off Dietrich" I responded, shoving him back. He moved back a few steps, knowing better than to get in a one on one with me, but his two friends moved forward and when he felt confident that he had numerical superiority, he moved forward again.  
  
"What, you pissed that you don't have anyone to fuck you anymore?"  
  
"I told you to shut the fuck up, Dietrich. Don't think I won't choke you." I responded  
  
"Oh trust me, you'll be the one getting choked. Now that you got Erik thrown in jail and the case is over, we have nothing to hold us back from beating your sorry ass".  
It was at that point that the three of them moved in. I tried my best to fight them off, throwing punches that would knock one of them backwards or the other onto the ground before they were able to corner me and pin me up against the locker. I thrashed and fought as hard as I could, kicking one of them in the groin as he moved towards me, presumably to try and punch me, but it was of little hope. I looked around for help, but there was no one: my platoon commander stood watching as he pulled his shirt on, and I shot him a glare.  
Then the punches came.  
  
They came slowly at first, almost as if Dietrich had to wind up his arm before he punched, but they started to come faster. A punch to the stomach was followed by a kick to the groin and my head being slammed into the metal locker. The three of them were clearly getting a huge high off of this, one of them laughing almost uncontrollably as he threw punch after punch into my rib cage. It wasn't that I was worried about breaking a bone: I had had so many broken in the ten years I'd been boxing that I was sure that they had calcified over, but really? Three versus one?  
  
It came as a surprised when the both of them holding my arms up against the locker let go and threw me to the ground. I rolled onto my back, staring up at them in anger as they hovered over me, each of their disgusting smiles and annoying laughs filling the small square that was this corner of the locker room. I began to get up, but just as I did one of them sharply kicked me in the side of my rib cage with his bare foot, though it ended up biting him in the ass as he started hobbling complaining "fuck that hurt".  
  
"C'mon guys, if this fag likes it up the ass so much, who are we to keep it from him?"  
  
There was a pause in the conversation.  
  
"Dude... I'm not gay" one of them remarked  
  
"....You moron." Dietrich remarked. He looked down at me with his shit-eating grin, and firmly said "as slowly and painfully as possible"

  
I quickly jumped up from my back, bouncing forward and going for Dietrich’s  legs, knocking him to the ground before me before scrambling forward as I felt him fall to the ground on my legs. I struggled to get up under his weight, and just as I did I felt a hand grab under my armpit and pull me up. I sighed, looking around, hoping it was someone that was there to help.  
  
It wasn't.  
  
A fist flew into my face, and I was launched back into the metal lockers, slowly sliding to the ground as I felt blood begin to pour out of my nose.  
  
"Ah fuck... get the fucker!"  
  
I tried my best to fight back, but I could tell there were more than three. At least four pairs of hands grabbed me and I was thrown onto my stomach on the ground, and after a moment they were stripping my and kicking at my sides.   
  
It hurt.  
  
A lot.  
  
 This was the kind of blood they loved, the kind where someone can't defend themselves and is attacked in such an unusual manner that it embarrasses them beyond end. All other sorts of middle-school grade pranks were dished out by them because they couldn't defend themselves in a one-on-one fight.  
  
They chose to do this to me because they knew, from experience, that every time they tried I was able to overtake at least one of them and throw them into the toilet head first, so they chose something personal that they could all partake in. What was this, the jungefolkschule? Pranks?  
  
They were those kinds of douchebags.  
  
They pulled me up to my feet and Justus made eye contact with me, smiling from the side of his face that still bled. He drew his fist back, and launched it up into my stomach. I cried out in pain, but they kept going, tortuously so, for what seemed like five minutes, occasionally shouting out innumerable slurs about my sexuality. When I eventually yelped out in pain, I could hear Dietrich spark up, responding;  
  
"Oh come on Friedrich, we all know you love it rough! So rough so you-"  
  
"Drop him. Now." A stern voice said from behind all of us.  
  
There was silence in the air for about thirty seconds, before the voice repeated itself.  
  
"Did I fucking stutter, Private? Drop him now" the voice demanded  
  
I slowly slid to the ground, before clamoring towards the corner of the lockers. I tried to catch my breath as I watched the conversation that was going on. Standing in the entrance to the group of lockers stood a guy about six foot three, towering over everyone else. His head was shaved and he had a very athletic build, his uniform clad in shimmering medals and ribbons, and he held an officers visor cap in his left hand. He glared down at Dietrich and his group, and began to yell.  
  
"How fucking DARE you perverted sons of bitches not only choose to torture him, but four on one? What, are you guys too much of fucking pussies to be able to handle him one on one? Oh wait, thats right, you are! I swear to the fucking emperor himself if I do not see you outside running fucking suicides at four this afternoon I will literally mount you all on spikes from your assholes outside the fucking gates of the school!"  
  
They were all dead silent, but one cocky one tried to speak up.  
  
"You can't ord-"  
  
"Yes I fucking CAN order you and I will order you to do whatever the fuck I want because I'm a fucking DC you morons" he yelled. A group of spectators had formed behind him, some of them trying to hold back laughter.  
  
"Now get your pansy asses the fuck out of here and line the fuck up before I hand you all up to dry!"  
  
The group of four quickly dispersed, and as the Divisional Commander turned around, the group behind him rapidly thinned out. He eventually looked back at me as I sat on the bench between the two walls of lockers, and spoke in a much different tone.  
  
"You alright Corporal?" he questioned.  
  
"Yes sir" I responded, rising out of respect of the rank.  
  
"Sit down" He ordered, pointing to the bench. I nodded, sitting.  
  
"Now, are you actually alright or are you just acting tough".  
  
"I'm fine sir, I've had much worse against other troops boxers" I responded.  
  
"Good. Now watch out for yourself, alright?" he questioned.  
  
"Yes sir" I responded respectfully.  
  
He nodded, saluting and walking off. I wiped the blood that was beginning to dry from my face, and grabbed my towel, walking over to the sink to wash my face off as I tried to run through all of the divisional commanders I knew. He was my age, tall, black hair, athletic... maybe that was Christoph?  
  
I sat . Usually commanders smile on that sort of thing: it "thins the herd", as some say, and "creates unity" in groups. That usually means that people who aren't the highest in terms of rank or popularity, those who can't defend themselves with their fists or with their wits, have the shit beaten out of them until they ran out of the school.  
  
My mind decided very rapidly that that was, indeed, Christoph Schneider, one of the divisional commanders. The DCs were all close with each other, mostly because there were only five of them, and they kept a  few regimental and platoon COs, and even the occasional normal NCO. They were the most respected guys, both when in-rank and out of rank, and were usually the ones that held the craziest parties. Their social circle was led by Albrecht, the brown haired officer who also happened to be the son of our Emperor and the future Emperor himself.  
  
'He's gorgeous...'  the voice in my head decided to remind me.  
  
'God damn it, stop thinking like that!'  
  
My mind wandered back to what I had been going through, and what I'd likely be forced to go through in the future. I'd thought of leaving the school several times in the past semester, after all there were so many reasons for it. I'd gone through so much already, and if this sort of thing was going to pick up in frequency, it was going to get rough.  
  
Then again, I had nowhere else to go, not after what happened at home. Leaving was out of the picture.  



	4. Chapter 4

Time is a funny thing. It passes by a lot quicker than you realize, and by the time you do, its too late. 

A few weeks had passed by since the incident in the locker-room had happened, and I seemed to be being left alone, for one reason or another. At first I didn't care; I was happy to be given a respite from the incessant hazing and abuse that ran rampant through our academy, but as the days turned to weeks without being bothered by the usual suspects, I began to get curious. Unfortunately, when you're left with few friends except for the other boxing guys and your coach, there's little you can do in terms of investigating why.  
  
I think I was too young to understand the similarities between “hazing” and the old adage of “boys will be boys” when I first joined the Youth. I understand that in other countries, such as the United States, “bullying” and hazing are getting strictly clamped down. I read during one of my foreign culture lectures that a state called 'New Jersey' had recently adopted a very stringent “anti-bullying” law, championed by their walrus-sized Governor. Many of us in the class didn't understand why what we considered “character-building” experiences were illegal in the United States. I had always been taught that they were a country of strong-minded and strong-willed people, but I guess times change.

None the less, I understand the similarities I mentioned before very well now. What the Americans call “bullying” and “hazing” is a principal part of our society here in Alte-Koniggratz: its practically a substitute for parents for those of us sent away to National Political Academies throughout the country. Much like our ancestors, who fought tooth-and-nail through the streets of our cities during past wars, we are forced to fight: however in a much different capacity. Everything here at the academy is a competition: If you're not the best at whatever you do, you better become the best or sooner or later you're going to have your ass kicked so hard you won't wake up anymore. I'm lucky enough to be considered the “best” at something: boxing. Its always been my passion, and its what got me into the academy in the first place.  
  
Boxing's provided a lot of things for me: outside of the opportunity to attend the “prestigious” Lions Guard Academy, its given me something to hold onto during the hard times. Throughout the recession, during my parents infighting, and especially during the problems with Erik, being able to beat the living shit out of someone in the middle of the ring was cathartic: especially so when I faced competitors from other academies around the country and large audiences gathered to cheer me on. The sight of over a hundred people filling in every gap around the ring and screaming at the top of their lungs when I knocked someone on their ass when they least expected it helped my fragile self esteem quite a bit.  
  
Even more so when some of the people cheering were the guys who constantly hazed me.  
  
For a time, I thought being good at boxing would shield me from the continued harassment from the several groups which targeted loners such as myself. Unfortunately, I was horribly wrong. After the competitions ended, especially during the off-season, I was just as much of a target as the guys who prided themselves on being able to replicate a painting, stroke for stroke, by someone from the 18th century. I guess beating the shit out of a champion boxer who, often enough, refuses to fight back is a lot of fun. I guess it makes you feel like you're better than him. I don't really know.  
  
Let me get back to the “now”.  
  
I found myself steadily running in place in the middle of the ring, sweating profusely. My opponent, who so happened to be considered the school “champion” before I was recruited to attend here, was bleeding from his lower lip. His head tucked down, he looked to be in position to throw another jab.  
  
And so he did.  
  
As his glove-covered fist flew through the air, time seemed to slow: I dodged out of the way, and while his arm was still mid swing, sent a strike straight into his stomach. Then I sent another jab straight into his face, and watched as his head moved back after the concussion with my glove.  
  
He fell backwards and onto his ass in the corner of the ring, struggling to get back up: he looked up at me, almost pleading to let him get back up.  
  
I thought about it for a moment, then remembered the time he stole my kit-bag two weeks after I arrived at the academy because he considered me a “threat”.  
  
A lot of people on the boxing team considered me a threat back then. Most of them still do.  
  
I looked at him, and as he gave me a bit of a thanking smirk, I nodded.  
  
And then I knocked him out.  
  
It was pretty easy, after all: he weighed about eighty-one KG, close to my weight, but was markedly less built and lacking adequate hand-eye coordination. His eyes locked onto mine at the exact moment my glove slammed into his face once again, and he slowly fell to the ground, likely already out before his head slammed into the ring's mat. My best victories were always won right as the person I was fighting let their guard down.  
  
Time seemed to return to normal speed. I watched as the ref swung under the ropes and into the ring, counting down the time Francis remained on the ground. 1-2-3-4-5.  
  
He was out.  
  
The ref looked to me and smiled, and I looked out into the few people who were in the crowd. Our coach, Edgar, smiled at me as he clapped.  
  
“You never cease to amaze me, Friedrich” He yelled towards me as I swung under the ropes and hopped off the ring. I moved towards him and held my gloves out, listening to him as he untied them and pulled them off.  
  
“You make me very proud, you know. Considering what you've been through and how far you've come since you first came here.”  
  
I sighed a little, and stayed quiet for a moment, before responding: “Thanks coach”.  
  
He smiled, something that I was told was rare before I came around. Coach was tough: he wanted a championship no matter what the circumstances nor consequences would be. He was known to be violent, brutal, and unforgiving: we often went through extremely long runs from the campus all the way through the city and to the farmlands outside of the city, which would take up most of the day, and return only to have to box each other.  
  
I was told someone had died after having gone through the “ice-water test”, where two holes are drilled in the ice of a frozen lake and you have to dive in, in only your underwear, and swim to the other hole.  
  
Scuttlebutt says the guy committed suicide, drowning himself in the middle of the ice on purpose.  
  
My attention snapped back to Coach Edgar as he patted me on the shoulder, remarking “alright now Friedrich, get to the showers”  
  
I grabbed my gloves that he'd dropped on the ground and wandered off to the large communal showers. Standing in front of one of the large sink basins, I grabbed a cloth and started to wipe the blood off of my cheek as I looked myself over.  
  
Blond, built, blue eyed, six foot tall. You could argue I was a girls dream guy. Shame I'm gay, I guess.  
  
I started to undress, pulling the white wife beater with the symbol of our school stitched into the front off of my body and tossing it over my shoulder as I wandered over to the showers. I pulled the rest of my clothes off and tossed them over a hook as I turned the shower on and stood under the steaming hot water. The combination of cool November air seeping through the windows and the steaming water falling on my body made all of my muscles relax.  
  
I'm not really sure how long I spent in the showers, but it was long enough. I eventually turned off the water and pulled a towel around my waist, carrying my clothes and myself towards my locker. I began to put on a fresh uniform, the jet black wool of the tunic standing out compared to the rest of the white tiled room. I was about half-way dressed when things went awry.  
  
Its weird, its almost as if I was taken off-guard. As I stood there adjusting the position of one of the ribbons on my tunic, my pants were yanked to the ground. I stumbled as I turned around, and found myself face-to-face with a group of six guys. My mind began to race and immediately clicked back into fighting mode, but it seemed to be to no avail.  
  
“You take a fuckin' long time to shower, mate” the thick, Oceanic accented twenty year old stated.  
  
I glared at him; Jack, an exchange student from Australia. Before I had the chance to respond, a fist was flying towards me. I ducked and went to grab his wrist, but before I knew it I was crashing to the ground.  
  
From there on, it was all torture. I couldn't defend myself. Not from six guys piling over me. No matter skills.  
  
The second I landed on my chest the boots started flying into my sides. A stomp on my back and constant pressure kept me pinned as they continually sent kicks into my sides; they went after the weak spots, south from where the ribs lie, close to the stomach.  
  
Their screams of joy and laughter pissed me off. I tried to get up, but the boot holding me down stomped down again. I heard my back crack. I was lucky it wasn't damaged.  
  
They continued to laugh as they suddenly pulled my off of the ground and threw me straight into the metal lockers across the room. I stumbled, grabbing my face in pain as I tried to turn and fight them. One of them, about five foot nine, raced towards me with his fist held high. I was actually able to grab it this time, and threw him to the ground.  
  
It was a short lived victory.  
  
Within seconds, they were all over me again. Two of them held my arms out as Jack continually punched me in the gut. The pain started to take over; when you've boxed for most of your life, you learn to block it out, but there comes a point where it starts to take over.  
  
The laughter and mocking didn't help. One of them suggested getting a pair of scissors out and cutting my hair. I prayed not. I just hung my head low, trying to break free from their grasp every so often, but I just couldn't.  
  
I found my breath shorter and shorter. I was getting close to my pain threshold.  
  
Suddenly, the fists stopped. I looked up after a moment, and made eye contact with Jack. Behind him, holding an ice-pack to his lip, was Justus. He smirked, and Jack seemed to stare into my soul.  
  
All of a sudden, a knee slammed straight up into my crotch, and I doubled over in pain.  
  
They laughed like fucking jackals, and let go of me as I fell to the ground in pain. I clenched my groin, breathing extremely heavily as I tried to fight off the pain.  
  
Things went quiet out of the blue. There were whispers from the peanut gallery.  
  
Suddenly I found myself pressed up against the cold, metal lockers. One of them pushed my head against the locker, and I looked across at the figure in front of me, just as a fist came flying at my face. 

It hit, and my head slammed back into the locker door.

He hit over and over again, for what seemed like an eternity. I could feel blood coming from all over my face.

"Nobody here to protect you now, eh fag?" Jack taunted. He followed up with another flying fist at my face.  
  
It seemed to last forever. They just kept punching; though they occasionally targeted other parts of my torso, they focused on my face. The laughter was louder than ever. As my vision started to fade in and out to black, I tried to yell for help, but little came out.  
  
In between my fading vision, there were flashes. The distinct tapping sound of IPhones being texted on. Suddenly they let go, and I crashed to the floor of the locker room.  
  
And then everything went black.  



	5. Chapter 5

“...and there was no one around him?”

I found myself stirring out of what felt like an extremely deep sleep; not one that proved refreshing, however, as the moment I began to move my sides began to ache. 

“No sir, no one.” a familiar voice spoke up. 

I tried my best to sit up, opening my eyes and looking around at my surroundings. My vision was blurred at first, but I found myself lying on a flat bunk in what looked like the medical ward. Across the room stood an officer in a long, white coat which seemed to reach down to his knees. Standing opposite him was someone familiar; Siegfried Gladen, a friend of mine.

I rubbed my eyes, and tried my best to focus on their conversation. The man in the coat seemed to be taking notes as Siegfried responded to his questions, though neither of them noticed that I'd risen yet. 

“Very well” the officer responded.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“Well, after an X-Ray and a cat scan he seems to be fine, just some bruises. The boy was lucky he didn't break any-”

It was at that point that the officer looked towards me and stopped speaking mid-sentence, taking a moment to look me over before heading towards me, clipboard under his arm. I watched as they both walked down the long aisle of cots, a few guys lying on them piecemeal, though most of them seemed sound asleep. I tried to look around for a window to see what time it was, though they all seemed to be above and behind my head, and trying to turn caused nothing but pain. 

“Corporal” the officer stated, catching my attention as he stood in front of my cot.

“Sir” I responded, looking at him earnestly. 

“He moved towards me and sat on the edge of the cot next to me, looking at me with a smile as he flipped through the papers on his board. 

“How are you feeling, son?” he questioned.

“Doing alright, sir. Am I okay?”

“Yes you are. Friedrich, correct?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Good, good. You're beat up pretty badly, but outside of bruising and a possible sprain, you seem to be alright. Your scans showed up nothing broken.” 

“Thank god” I responded half-heartidly. 

“You know, you're very lucky that your friend over here found you. Had he not you might have still been on the ground of the washroom. What happened?”

“Uh-” I sputtered with my words. “I, uh...”

I didn't continue my sentence. The doctor looked at me almost knowingly, though he seemed to be trying to garner some sort of response with his look. 

“I got in a bit of a scrap.”

“Thats an understatement” He responded quickly. “You're a bit more beaten up than having been in a scrap. You've been here before for things like this.”

I nodded, not responding. He looked at me, again, for a response, though this time I didn't provide one.

After a bit, he looked over to Siegfried, who seemed to be waiting for his chance to speak to me. I looked at him and smiled; he was one of my few friends left in this school, especially after what happened with Erik.

The doctor sighed, and rose from the cot he sat on, remarking “Just try to win next time, son. You're our champion boxer, after all.” 

I sighed, nodding. I looked up at Siegfried as he slowly walked past the Doctor and took his place on the cot next to me. He folding his hands together and looked me up and down. 

“Those are some pretty gnarly bandages there, Friedrich” he said, pointing towards my chest.

I looked down, having not realized there was anything there to begin with. A large bandage was wrapped around my torso, going up at an angle towards my rips on the left side. I ran my hand across the rough, thick fabric, sighing. 

“Whats going on, Friedrich? How come you haven't spoken to me recently?”

I looked over at Siegfried and just stared at him a bit, before shaking my head. I didn't really have an answer that was acceptable; in truth, I had been sort of avoiding him. He had recently been promoted to the position of Divisional Commander, and that meant he had a lot of duties and a lot of new, powerful friends. I, on the other hand, had a bad reputation for what had happened between Erik and I, and didn't want to mess up his new chances. I understood that sometimes you had to drop something, or someone, on your way up the ladder. 

“Well” I stammered for words “I just figured you were busy with your new position and all”

“Not too busy to chill with you, dude” he remarked. I looked him up and down; his jet black uniform was adorned with several youth awards, including a purple ribbon above his tunic's pocket. He had been one of our countries Olympic athletes, competing on the baseball team and getting all the way to the final game against the United States. Though they lost, he came back a national hero. 

“I don't really know. You've got a lot of new friends to hang out with anyway, why do you need me?” I questioned. 

He sighed, then looked at me seemingly trying to find something to say.

Siegfried was someone who had always been by me, and during the case he had stayed with when everyone else seemed to peel away. I had become spoiled fruit that everyone in the market avoided, but he at least found some value in me, which I was grateful for. Had I not had him and the few others whom had stuck by me, I don't know what I would have done. 

“You've been my friend since the first week you arrived. Your being gay isn't going to change that”

I smiled. It felt like the first time I had smiled in quite awhile. 

“Besides, that just means more girls for my bed” he joked, winking at me. 

Siegfried was gorgeous. Tall, he always seemed to be in perfect condition. He had short hair that turned brown when it was grown out, and was in great physical condition. Without a shirt on he looked even better, a well-defined set of abs hidden beneath his tunic. I reminded him often how lucky he was, and he admitted to me once that it helped his self esteem quite a bit. It was a sign that we were close; most guys around here don't admit feelings at all. In the end, despite how good he looked, he was a friend, and that mattered more to me than anything else. 

Besides, he was straight. I wasn't going to be getting any of that any time soon. 

“So the hells been going on?” He questioned, breaking the silence that surrounded us. 

“What do you mean?” I returned. 

“You know what I mean. You're bruised beyond belief and its the off season.”

“Its not that bad”

“Dude, you look like you're getting the shit beaten out of you multiple times a week.”

I fell silent, looking at him for a moment before breaking eye contact and looking down at my chest. It was true; my sides, stomach and chest were bruised beyond belief. It was way worse than it looked during peak season.

“I, uh-”

“Dont you dare lie to me, Friedrich. You didn't hurt yourself falling out of bed during reveille.”

“I-”

“We've been friends for too long for that.”

I looked at him and sighed. 

“I'm a DC now, Friedrich. I can actually help. And I want to.”

“You don't need to protect me, Siggi. I'm capable of doing that for myself.”

I leaned back in surprise as he rose quickly, seemingly in anger.

“You can't fucking defend yourself from six guys beating the shit out of you” he spit out, glaring at me. 

“You don't need to worry about that” I retorted.

He pointed right at the bandages around my chest, and remarked “Oh? And are those a sign of victory? How about the fact I found you naked on the ground and had to give you a pair of my-”

“Shut the hell up, Siegfried” I interrupted, raising my voice. “I didn't ask for your fucking help. I'm not a little boy, I'm a fucking champion boxer.”

“Who understandably can't defend himself from a dozen guys ganging up on him. You're not fucking alone dude, there are people out there who care about you, just because this is the Academy doesn't mean you have to fight alone. This isn't the ring. Its fucking life, man.”

“I-”

“I don't want to see you dead Friedrich” He said, staring at me. His anger seemed to wash out of his face, and he slowly sat back down on the cot next to me. I stared at him as he ran his hands across his face in frustration.

“I'm sorry” I muttered. “Its just... my personality”. I slowly moved to the side of the cot, holding my side as my legs swung down off the bed and touched the floor. The white, waxed tile was cool to the touch and I lifted my foot up slightly in surprise before settling it back down.

He looked up and we locked eye contact for a few moments, before he finally responded.

“Your personality doesn't have to include being alone. Fuckin hang out with me man, I miss all of the fun shit we used to do together. And I guarantee the guys would love you.”

“The guys?” I questioned. 

“Yeah, the other divisional-”

“They're... not really my type.”

“You've never hung out with them before, so how would you know?”

“They're all kids of super important people, dude. I'm just the son of a reactionary who...”

I paused.

He stared at me.

I didn't respond, trying to skirt the subject.

“Who went through some shit” he said, finishing my sentence. 

“Who went through some shit” I repeated.

“Trust me. Some of them have mentioned you in conversation before. They hold no ill will towards you for what happened, most of them side with you on the subject.”

“I came up in talk?” I questioned

“Yeah. Sort of by chance. They brought up a boxing match you competed in recently”

“The one with the guy from Mendelburg?”

“Yeah, where you broke his nose”

We both laughed together, and he reached across the aisle to slap me on the knee. 

“The guys thought that was sick.”

I smiled, soon responding “well, thats good.”

“Now seriously. Promise me you'll-”

He stopped talking as the resounding noise of the large metal doors of the medical bay swung open. I looked over as Siegfried rose up, walking towards the figure that stood here. 

He let out a resounding “Hey man, how are you?” to the figure standing there, and I looked him up and down as he and Siegfried shook hands.

The figure that stood in the window wore a jet-black uniform adorned with what seemed like innumerable medals and pins. He was about six-two, sun-tanned white skin, and brownish-blond hair that was styled in a psuedo-quiff to the side, the sides of his hair almost buzz-cut. When he spoke, his bleach-white teeth shone, almost matching the white tiling on the floor and lower walls.

“Doing alright man, heard you were here. You alright?” the figure questioned.

“Yeah man, just checking on a friend of mine.” Siegfried responded. He pointed towards my cot and I with his hand, and I watched as he and the figure moved away from the doorway and towards me, the metal doors swinging back and forth behind them.

The figure moving towards me with Siegfried was undoubtedly him.

“What happened?” he questioned.

“Oh, Friedrich’s... got some problems with some guys.”

As they reached the foot of my bed, I slowly rose, though clearly in pain, and presented a salute. Standing before me was the Crown Prince; Albrecht, the future Emperor. The big-man on campus. 

“Your Highness” I addressed him. I could feel my heart beating rapidly; Albrecht was the Crown Prince, but he was also gorgeous. Possibly the best looking guy in the whole academy, and I would be lying if I said I didn't have a massive thing for him. 

“You're in the bay for a reason, sit down” the Prince seemingly ordered. I stood there, returning to an at-rest position with my hands behind my back. He looked me up and down and actually gave out a sigh. 

“I said sit down, not stand at ease.” 

I stood there for a moment, but as he glared at me I complied, slowly sitting back down on the edge of the bed, then swinging my legs back onto it.

“So what happened?” he questioned me.

“Uh... I-”

Siegfried spoke up, interrupting me;

“A couple of Erik's old friends did a number to him. They've been doing it for awhile now, apparently.”

“To our champion boxer?” Albrecht questioned, seemingly surprised. “There must have been a group of them.”

He seemed to be more at ease now that I was lying back down on the cot, and 

“Seven” I said, though admittedly quietly. I wanted to defend my honor in front of someone like him. 

He reacted unexpectedly, seemingly exasperated. “Seven? The fuck is someone supposed to defend themselves against seven guys? Thats unacceptable. You'd think being academy attendees they'd at least have some level of honor.”

I nodded slowly, not knowing what to say in response. I had always been taught that if I was to meet a royal, that I would speak to them only when spoken to. It took a lot not to be constantly saluting him right now, but I could tell he wouldn't appreciate it.

He turned towards Siegfried and remarked “Well, are we going? Thank god its friday, I want to get out of this damn thing and into some casual clothes” he said as he tugged on the tunic of his uniform. 

Siegfried smiled, agreeing with him. He then turned to me, questioning “You wanna come?” before looking back at Albrecht and saying “if that's alright with you.”

“Hell yeah, I've always wanted to talk to you about your boxing style” Albrecht said, looking at me.

“I'd love to” I responded, “but I don't think...” I sputtered off as I looked past them and to the doctor sitting at a small desk on the far side of the room, scribbling away on his papers. 

“Oh.” Albrecht said. “Well, maybe another time?”

“Absolutely” I responded. I looked at Siegfried and gave him a smile and a nod, assuring him it was alright that he could leave.

He looked hesitant at first, but after a moment he walked over and shook my hand, leaning forward and hugging me. I hugged back. 

“See you soon” He said as he leaned back out. I nodded, and looked over at Albrecht as he stood next to me. He extended his hand, and I shook it. 

“Let me know if you have any more trouble, alright Friedrich?” He questioned.

“Yes your highness.”

“Its Albrecht, Alright?” he stated as he looked at me, hand still firmly gripping mine.

“Alright.....”

He smiled, and let go. A few moments later, they were out the door with a wave goodbye. 

I sighed as my heart rate started to decline back to normal. That was the first time I had ever interacted with someone with the royal family on a person-to-person basis. From a cultural standpoint, that was supposed to be an honor. From a personal standpoint, it was somewhat nerve-racking. I was lucky I hadn't popped a massive boner in the middle of saluting him.


	6. Chapter 6

The next few weeks were quiet.

Strangely quiet, to be honest. Nobody seemed to bother me, I hung out with the few friends I had left here, and minded my lecture work.  From time to time, I even got the chance to spend extra time practicing for an upcoming match I had with another boxer from Weißerberg's political academy. No beatings, no intense hatred or hazing, nothing. 

Though I was worried about today. 

Today was our rifle-cleaning exam. Something that the academy pressed upon us was proper use of firearms: though service was a requirement for men between the ages of 18 and 22, the Political Academy focused on things like rifle-cleaning, range-finding, and explosives use much more than the standard school. In-part I think it was because attending the academy got you out of the mandatory service, but on the other hand I felt it had much deeper implications.

What those were, I'd rather not get into. I'm not my father. I'm loyal to my country, after all.

I practiced with my rifle day and night for almost a week straight. The process was easy; check that the gun wasn't loaded, pull the bull to the rear, pull and hold back the trigger, and pull the bolt out of the receiver from behind. If the rifle has a scope, unscrew the bolt that attaches it to the base, and remove it.

It was the dismantling and re-assembly of the bolt itself I had problems with. It wasn't like I couldn't do it; I could, but we were timed, and it wasn't a lot of time either. I think we had to disassemble, clean, re-assemble and present it within five minutes of start time. Any mess up could earn you a failure, and there was hell to pay for that. Not just from the instructor, but from your group as well. A failure was a stain on the class's record. A stain on the school's record. Failure in rifle-training often resulted in expulsion if you failed the make-up test.

And this week, three classes were combined for the examination. 

I practiced over and over again; once the bolt was out, you had to unscrew the bolt screw, pry up the tab and twist the bolt out. Then you had to clean, dry lubricate it with oil, and then re-assemble the whole gun after cleaning the barrel itself. 

Disassemble the gun, clean the barrel, disassemble the bolt, clean it, lube it, put it back together, insert it into the rifle, and clean the rifle. All in five minutes. Or you could be expelled.

It was a lot, and I was fucking nervous.

That night, I spent hours going it over and over again. I sat there with a metronome on my desk taking it apart time and time again, trying to run under five minutes. Soon enough, I was under four. Then under three. There was a reward for anyone under three minutes, though I can't remember what it was. Maybe some sort of rifle-handling badge to pin on my plaque next to all of the ones I'd received for boxing. At least someone showed pride in me; to the school, despite how much trouble my situation a few months ago with Erik had caused, I was still a “champion boxer”. 

After hours of practicing, I found myself falling asleep next to my rifle. I awoke early in the morning, probably around four, and retreated to my bed, stripping off the uniform that I'd found I had fallen asleep in and lying in bed under the ceiling fan in nothing but my issued boxers. 

And I passed out.

I awoke a few hours later to the blare of reveille and jumped out of bed, gathering my things together and racing towards the showers. I was one of the first to arrive, and was in and out in ten minutes, heading back to my room by the time most of the other guys in my dorm building were heading down the stairs to shower. I had made the mistake in the past of showering at the same time as the others; some of my tormentors were in the same dorm building as I, and what better place to go after someone than when they're most vulnerable?

Pretty gay if you ask me; to go after someone while they're naked in the shower. Then again, that comes from me. A gay guy and little spoon.

Within a few minutes, I was dressed for morning exercises and outside on the parade grounds with my coach; each morning, we exercised with the other guys in our 'squad'; each squad was made up of similar athletic groups, I was surrounded by the other boxers and a few lacrosse players and baseball players whom were overflow from the other, admittedly massive, squads. Baseball, Lacrosse, and Football (not American football, the real Fußball) teams were the largest; boxing, on the other hand, was one of the smallest, though we were respected in our own right. At least, the other guys were. 

Morning exercise was usually the same thing;  calisthenics, calisthenics, and calisthenics. Push ups, pull ups, chin ups, and all other sorts of physical training. Twice a week we went on a 20-mile jog through the mountains which, while grueling, got us out of our foreign culture lectures, which were even worse. During the off-season, practice was not required for boxing, though it was highly suggested by the coach, and I practiced four times a week during the off-season, usually on the weekends when it was quiet in the gymnasium and everyone was off on leave. 

This morning, though, we didn't have our jog. We finished our hour of exercises, showered off, and went to the foreign culture lecture, which I almost slept through. The next few hours of lectures went by at its regular pace, sometimes interesting and sometimes not. By the end of the forth hour I was starving and looking forward to lunch.

I have to say, the food here is good. A lot better than my mother and father used to make.

My moms food... I still miss her.  

Though I know I can't go back, especially considering how my father feels about me, especially given that I came out to him then forged his signature on the slip allowing me to attend here the next day. Neither of which he was happy with.

He screamed most of the night after I came out.  

I spend that night in the fields, hoping not be found and beaten.

The lunch hall was massive; extremely long tables were lined in long columns down each side, four tables deep. There were a few tables offset to the side for the high-ranking squad-leaders and commanders, and the occasional teacher whom so happened to not want to sit in the instructor's lounge down the hall. With the sounds and smells of hundreds of 16-22 year old guys in the same hall, I can assume you know how often the instructor's table was used.

Today's menu was one of my favorites; American-style barbecue ribs, corn, and mashed potato. As part of the foreign culture lectures, the instructor arranged to have a different countries food served at least once a week in the mess-hall. That was possibly the only perk to listening to a two-hour lecture about the effects American Military Doctrine had on our European counterparts. The line was long, but the food was worth it. It was so much better than the usual pork sausage.

I found myself sat at the same relatively empty table I usually sat at; I was used to sitting and eating alone ever since the case became public within the school grounds. People really seemed to change their opinions about me after that, and though at first I figured it would pass, it never did. 

I'm not whining, its just that... I dont know. It'd be nice to sit and chat with someone during lunch for a change. The other guys that sit at the table I sit at are the... artsy type. Not to say theres anything wrong with that, but to be frank, I don't give a rats ass about the “anime” they spend all of lunch talking about. Its too strange to me.

They've probably got some sort of fetish for that kind of stuff.

I found the guys across the table from me, once again, trying to involve me in their conversation. I couldn't frankly figure out what the hell they were talking about; some sort of new app on their phone where they spent the weekend wandering around looking for creatures. I didn't have a cell phone; I couldn't afford one. I didn't have the financial backbone of my parents like the rest of these had, and the little money I made through my 'military service' at the academy I sent home. 

I felt bad for abandoning my mother.

I was mid-way though a bite when the guys across me started nagging me about what kind of 'pokemon' I had captured recently and if I had anything to trade. I politely declined, but they both seemed to freeze.

I looked at them confused, but they seemed to be looking behind me. As I went to turn around, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder.

I held my breath for a moment, the air rushing out of my body. I tried to examine the facial expressions from the boys across me, but I gathered nothing more than the hand on my shoulder told me.

It was quiet for a moment before the voice behind the shoulder spoke up.

“The hell are you sitting alone for, Friedrich?” A familiar voice questioned. 

I exhaled in great relief as I turned to see Siegfried standing behind me, his left hand holding a plate of ribs and his right on my shoulder. He had a broad smile on, his jet-black uniform contrasting with his bleach-white teeth. 

“Hey, whats up Siggi?” I responded, smiling.

“Not much dude, not much. Why are you sitting alone, come chill with us!” He remarked. I looked over at where he pointed to; the officers table. 

“I, uh-”

“Don't bullshit me” he said, seemingly getting serious.

“I'm almost done though” I tried to excuse myself out of the situation as best I could. While I appreciated the offer, I didn't really... belong there.

“Your plates still fuckin full, dude. Come on; don't make me drag you there”. He gave me a stern glare, almost as if he was half tempted to order me to go there. I knew he wouldn't (and probably couldnt), but I didn't really want to test how much he'd changed since being promoted.

Siegfried and I had started on relatively equal footing; Though He was a lieutenant when I first arrived, he was still very low on the chain; like me. He was a lieutenant because of his service in the national youth programs when he was younger, which granted him immediate officer ship if he was so chosen to attend an academy. He and I had gotten along from the time we first met, and he never seemed to forget me as he climbed all the way up the ladder.

I hesitantly rose from my table, picking my plate and silverware up, along with my rifle bag, as I followed behind him. We crossed the large room filled with people, away from the thingly-populated side and onto the heavily-populated section filled with guys my age. I found myself heading right towards a table occupied by nothing but black-uniformed commanders; company, brigade, and divisional. I scanned across the group and immediately recognized most of them; they were all important. 

And the Crown Prince was included with them.

My heart started to beat faster; though I hid it, I was really starting to find myself attracted to him as I seemed to see him more and more. It was a pipe dream, but he was gorgeous, had a great personality, and was infinitely kind. It was a shame he was straight.

Siegfried caught the group's attention with a resounding “Whats up”, and they all seemed to reply in unison with different greetings. I followed cautiously behind as he set his plate down at a seat that had an extra one next to it. To Siegfried's right was the crown prince.

“Guys, this is Friedrich” He said, pointing to me. “He's cool”

“Wait, the boxah?” One of the black-uniformed commanders responded. I looked him over; a heavy British accent, his hair cut mid-fade with a hard part and long comb over. That was Drew, our only British exchange student, and one of the British Royals. I didn't really know him well, but he'd never treated me wrong.

“Yeah the boxer. The one that broke that guy from Mendelberg's nose and knocked him out in the first round!”

“Hell yeah, whats up bud!” another one of the black-uniformed guys at the table said, this time directed at me. He had a smile on his face.

Tjaden, Divisional Commander, and apparent close friend of Prince Albrecht's. The guy that saved my ass from that group of guys a month or two ago.

I smiled in return. Not a faked one, but a real one. All of the guys at the table seemed happy to see me. They seemed to welcome me as I was ushered to sit down at the table next to Siegfried.

Then, I felt something tap my shoulder. 

I turned to see Prince Albrecht's fist out behind Siegfried's back, extended towards me. For a moment I sat, staring confused, before he shook it a bit. It suddenly dawned on me; he wanted to bump fists.

I did so.

I don't know why, but simply touching him made my heart go absolutely insane. I could feel my heart beating faster than It had since the last stressful boxing match I'd had. He smiled at me before returning to his plate.

“So mate” Drew said, seemingly directed towards me. He looked around a bit before leaning in, and questioned me; 

“Whats it like bein' able to beat the shit outa other schools blokes infront of the heads without gettin' in trouble?”

I couldn't help but laugh.

“Honestly” I responded “Its pretty fuckin great.”

The group laughed. I laughed. Before they all began to eat, they joined hands and the Prince said a prayer. It was weird; like they were all family, and they included me in it.

After that, we sat and talked for almost an hour, the rest of the lunch period, about all sorts of stuff. Before long, I seemed to forget whom I was surrounded by. We talked about everything; they were super interested in my boxing matches, but they also talked about the girls they were trying to hook up with, some of the drama going on in the real-world outside of the academy, and more. 

Some of them even had their rifle-exams the same period as me. 

That included the crown prince, whom, when surrounded by the rest of these guys, seemed completely at ease. He practically ordered me to allow him to sit next to him. As he passed the basket of bread towards Siegfried, I could see the rifle bad propped up against the table next to him. Officers had an assault rifle which, compared to the bolt-action the normal guys like me had, was better but also much harder to master.

I accepted, not really having the option to say he couldn't sit with me.

After all, sitting that close would be great. To be able to smell his cologne...

What the hell am I thinking!? Its the fucking Crown Prince for fucks sake. Come on Friedrich, You've spoken 10 words to him, he isn't going to fuckin suddenly turn gay for you and make out with you on national television.

My mind turned back to the conversation at hand just as the period bell rang loudly through the halls, and everyone got up at once, slowly piling out. I picked up my rifle bag and slung it over my shoulder as I joined the line to file out of the mess hall and towards my exam. 

It felt different, walking out of the lunch room after an experience like that. I... I dont know. Maybe I felt refreshed.

I entered the exam hall and took a seat at one of the hundred or two of two-seat tables, and began to un-pack my rifle. I set up all of my cleaning supplies, organized everything, and took the few minutes to practice.

All of a sudden, something bumped into my left side. I felt a book press up against mine, and I looked over. Prince Albrecht had slid onto the seat next to me. He appeared to be looking over at another one of the commanders, I think Brigade Commander Phillip. I moved my foot out of the way of his, though he was still sat close to me, his uniform rubbing against mine. His jet-black uniform contrasted with the dark gray of mine.

My heart rate started to increase. I watched as he started to unpack his cleaning supplies and tools, everything seemed custom made for him. He pulled out a large, polished assault rifle from his bag and set it on the table in front of him. I saw out of the corner of my eye him looking at my rifle.

“I'll trade you” he joked.

I laughed, shaking my head.

My heart rate was off the charts.

“Oh come on, not going to talk to me?”

I smiled, trying to continue with my practice. I was trying my best not to lead on how I was feeling. 

“Just trying to get a bit more practice in” I said, probably stuttering mid-sentence.

“Alright then” he said. I could see out of the corner of my eye him take apart his rifle, clean everything, and re-assemble it extremely quickly. Probably under two and a half minutes. It was nuts. 

But I couldn't give anything away. 'Just ignore him, Friedrich.'

After his first practice, he set the rifle down and looked back over to his friend and continued chatting. I kept practicing, but my hands had started shaking. 

'Come ON Friedrich, fucking stop it' I thought to myself. 

I practiced until the instructor blew his whistle. A group of guys walked down the aisles, setting down metronomes on the tables. A large timer was broadcast across the board. 

“You have five minutes.” He declared.

My heart was beating a million times a minute.

“Begin.”

I started as fast as possible. My hands few across the rifle, and I continually repeated the instructions in my head as I took the rifle apart. 

The rifle isn't loaded, good. Now pull the bull to the rear. Come on, pull back. Why the fuck is this thing having trouble now. Good, now pull and hold back the trigger with your other hand, and pull the bolt out of the receiver. Done.

I set the bolt on the table and started cleaning the barrel, running a cloth on the end of a long wire stick through it multiple times. I couldn't pay attention to the timer right now.

_No scope. Good._ Some people had been assigned scopes and other parts right before the exam; the threat forced everyone to practice for that eventuality. I quickly started to pull apart the bolt of the rifle,  first unscrewing the bolt itself, then holding the tab back and twisting the bolt out. The spring gave me a bit of trouble, but it was alright. 

I had all of the parts out before me. I cleaned everything, and lubricated it with the oil. 

Alright, now re-assemble it.

I had just started to put it all back together now. I looked up to read the timer; two minutes.

I saw Albrecht already in line to present his rifle. A few attendants walked between the aisles, ensuring nobody was cheating.

Holy fuck, Albrecht...

I started to hurry, putting the pieces together. I pressed the bolt back into place, screwing it in and inserting the bolt back into the barrel. It all fit into place.

Holy fuck.

Then, I went to adjust the bolt, and it wouldn't move.

FUCK

I pulled the bolt back out of the rifle and tried re-inserting it, but nothing happened again. I started sweating profusely, and before I knew it I was drenched. I noticed a tan set of uniform slacks with a long, red stripe standing over me; one of the instructors. 

I took the barrel out again and tried examining everything. Time was slipping away. I started praying.

Please... just please...

The instructor walked away.

I pressed the bolt back in and tried to adjust it; nothing again.

I'm screwed. 

I looked up; three minutes and twenty seconds had passed. My heart skipped a beat.

I looked down and didn't know what to do. I froze.

Suddenly, a hand reached across the table. I froze; an instructor?

I looked over.

Albrecht’s hand was stealthily reached across the table as he stood, swinging his rifle bag over his shoulder, not even looking at me. I watched as his thumb pressed on the tab of the rifle.

I forgot to press the tab back into place. That's why it wouldn't let me unload or reload.

My heart froze. I heard a distinct 'snap' and pressed the bolt back into place. I went to move the bolt back to reload.

Please. 

Please.

I closed my eyes and gripped the handle, sliding it back.

It worked.

It slid perfectly.

I quickly rose up as I slid the chamber shut and got in line. 

Three Minutes and thirty five seconds. 

The instructor took my rifle and examined it. He went through everything, pushing a cloth into the barrel and checking for residue.

“Perfect.”

He un-cocked the trigger and released the break of the rifle. He then pulled the handle of the bolt back to reload it. It worked.

“Perfect”

He pulled the bolt back and disassembled it, examining each piece, before putting the pieces back together. He looked up at me, and smiled.

“Perfect. Very nice cleaning condition. I'll knock off some time for that.”

Thank god.

He scribbled down something in his book before saluting me. I clicked my heels together and saluted back. I was dismissed.

I was sweating profusely, and looked around. Albrecht was nowhere to be found.

I rushed to clean my stuff up, swinging my rifle over my should along with my bag. I hurried out the door, trying to find where he went.

Gone.

Why did he help me...?


	7. Chapter 7

“You hear some of the guys from the Mendelberg school are visiting today?” 

“Yeah, I saw some of them in the hallway. Think the guy I faced is with them?” 

“No idea. It'd be interesting if he was, though.”

“Yeah.”

Things... kept going well the past few weeks. Since the exam, I hadn't had much to worry about. Things were, as I mentioned before, still strangely quiet. Every once in awhile I would pass by one of Erik's old friends and they'd give me the normal, disgusted look, but they never went further.

I couldn't figure out why.

What had changed in the past few weeks that they were leaving me alone?

I was starting to get nervous about it. Its like when you have a party and you're worried that your parents or the police show up; when they come, while you're filled with a sense of doom, you're also somewhat relieved. You don't have to worry about them coming anymore; they're already there. Worrying about the future's uncertainties is much worse for moral than worrying about  present problems.

Wait, the exam, thats what I was talking about. 

I couldn't figure out why he'd helped me.

I tried talking to him, but it always seemed like I was one step behind him. He was never in the lunchroom at the same time and we had no lectures together. I just couldn't find him. I tried asking Siegfried about it and he sort of brushed it off, questioning “did you need the help?”

“Yeah...”

“Then just take what he gave you and stop worrying about why he did it”

“I-”

He was just being nice.”

“B-”

“You overthink things too much”. 

I sighed, sitting back in the lecture-hall seat. The instructor standing on the platform down below us was explaining something about farming practices in the far-off fields of the Goldfelder district.

The district I lived in before I moved to the capitol. The place where my parents still lived.

I payed some attention, but he wasn't really explaining anything I didn't know. This course sought to teach us about how much work went into all of the jobs the people across our country did. It desired to eliminate any feeling of class, instead instilling a level of respect for the workers by the leaders. 

The future leaders were supposed to know what it was like to work in the fields, in the deep mines, and the factories. Every few months, we'd spend a week doing the actual job, to help “further educate” us on what it really was like.

For most of the attendees at the academy, this was probably valuable. Most of these guys seemed to be from well-off families with at least a moderate level of political connections.

I was one of the few outliers, As usual. Working class parents making a living by farming wheat way out in the Goldfelder plains.

It was Friday afternoon, and as the final lecture bell rang, everyone began to disperse. During the weekend, almost everyone went out on leave. The occasional few went off to visit their families or friends in other towns, but most ditched  their uniforms for designer clothing, they spend the weekends practically wrecking the town. 

I spent the weekend here on campus. Didn't really have anywhere to go, and no money to waste, you know?

Later in the day, I found myself pacing in place in the middle of a boxing ring. My coach stood to the side, with another one of my team-mates in front of me.

“You've got to be aware of a possible fake-out, Albrecht!” He hollered at the guy across from me. We were both standing in our boxing outfits; black shorts, a white white-beater with the symbol of our school stitched onto the front, and our boxing gloves tied onto our hands.

“Friedrich, Albrecht, begin!”

He waved his hand down between the two of us, and we both began. 

We both paced around the ring, occasionally one of us moving in to try and get a few good strikes in. The entire time, I found myself thinking to myself.

The first time he swung, I couldn't help but smile. Albrecht was young; about sixteen. He reminded me of a younger version of myself, though not as strong. 

I dodged his swing. Then, I let him put a few strikes into my chest. He didn't hit nearly as hard as some of the representatives from other academies across the country.

I swung into him twice; though nowhere near my full strength, he seemed to be knocked back. I was trying to judge his strength and how much he was putting into his hits. He needed to put everything into them to even be able to get me to move, and I was worried he wasn't. I had to piss him off to get him off-guard.

He swung towards my head, and I ducked down, launching a jab right into his chest. Though not at full strength, he was knocked back and into the ropes of the ring. I smiled, stepping back. I watched as he dropped to the floor of the ring.

Our coach laughed.

He took a few seconds to stand back up, and came right after me. I could see his teeth were clenched, his face scrunched. He was getting mad, but not mad enough.

I let him take at least ten swings for every swing I returned. Time and time again he would leave himself open to getting hit straight in the chest and I would knock him on his ass, but not hard enough for him to be unable to stand back up. We needed to box long enough for him to forget the goal was to watch out for being faked out.

I played the same games with him for ten minutes. He was starting to get tired towards the end, and he was really frustrated. Every time I knocked him on his butt he seemed angrier and angrier. 

It was when he sent an anger-filled, improperly posed jab that I knew he let his guard down. I let him hit me in the ribs and took a few steps back, my back pressed against the ropes. 

I bent over, trying to seem like I was injured.

He stood still for a moment, letting his gloves down.

Come on kid, come closer. Try to knock me out.

He hesitated for a moment. I looked up at him, and he was looking at Coach for guidance. The coach didn't give him a response.

He started coming towards me, and I couldn't help but smile.

As he wound up to deliver a strong blow, I caught him by surprise. His fist was mid-air as I launched out of my position, sending a glove straight into his chest and knocking him across the ring and onto his back.

He clenched his chest and rolled onto his side, breathing heavily. 

I tapped my bare foot a few times. 

5-4-3-2-1. He was out.

The coach sighed, looking over at me and rolling his eyes.

“You were supposed to watch OUT for being faked, not let yourself get faked!” he yelled at Albrecht. Albrecht was still on the ground, tightly clutching his stomach. He didn't respond.

“Damn kid” Coach blurted out.

I sighed, walking across the ring towards Albrecht. I reached down, wrapping my arm around his declaring “come on, get up.”

He sighed, using my arm to pull himself up onto his feet.

“You've got to be more in control of your emotions. The angrier you get, the more open to being hit and even knocked out you'll be.”

He started to fiddle with his gloves, trying to get them undone. Coach had walked out of the room already.

“Oh no you don't. You don't get better by giving up” I demanded. “We'll do this until you fake me out.”

We practiced for what seemed like hours. Time and time again I hit him onto his ass, and time and time again he seemed to get angrier and angrier, until I faked him out and knocked him down for long enough that he'd be considered out. However, he slowly started to get in control. He wouldn't learn in a day, but the practice certainly seemed to be helping.

It was about four hours later that I was tired enough to be done for the day.

“Alright, we'll pick up another day, alright?”

He smiled. 

“Alright, sir” He replied.

“Just Friedrich.”

He nodded, saluting with his glove on. I saluted back. He jumped off the ring and quickly ran to the showers.

_Probably somewhere to go._

He'll be good someday. If he keeps practicing every day, he'll be really good.

I sat on the stool in the corner of the ring for about fifteen minutes, first taking my gloves off then taking a drink from my squirt bottle before leaning back into the corner post of the ring and trying to catch my breath. My body was sore from the hours of practice, and I needed a shower.

I got up after a few more minutes and swung under the ropes of the ring, jumping off the platform and walked my way into the shower room. I undressed, stashing my gloves and ring-clothes into my locker before proceeding to shower.

I'm not sure how long I showered for. All I know is that by the time I was out, the sun was just above the horizon, about to be finished setting. Darkness had started to take hold.

It was the weekend. I dressed in what few casual clothes I had brought with me when I ran from home and hurried out the door, bringing my ring-clothes with me to wash. The weekend usually saw the laundry machines empty. 

I walked across the massive campus in the ever-growing darkness, occupied with whatever unimportant things I could think up. 

'Then again, I do have a paper due' I thought to myself as I rounded the corner of my dorm building.

Suddenly, I was crashing to the ground. 

I didn't know what the hell hit me, but I was knocked to the ground. There was screaming around me as I tried to force whatever the fuck was pressing me to the ground off of me, but it was extremely heavy.

“Hey Champ, How are you?” A voice in the darkness questioned. It was unfamiliar. Sounded like an accent from another part of the country.

Fuck.

“Get the fuck off of me!” I bellowed.

Suddenly, the toe of what felt like a pair of dress boots slammed into my ribs. I yelped out in pain, not expecting it to happen. 

“So breaking my nose worked out well for you, I see!”

Fuck. That guy I boxed from Mendelberg? Really? How did I not see this comi-

Another steel-toe right into my ribs

I yelped out in pain. A group of laughs followed; there sounded to be at least five of them.

“This time, there's no ref. There are no rules. And you're fucked. Sort of like that story someone told me about you. Something happened to you a year or so ago?” it taunted.

I flew into a rage, swinging wildly into whatever was holding me down. A voice yelped out in pain that wasn't mine as I felt my fists come into contact with a body under a uniform. 

The body rolled off of me, but before I could get up and get out of there, there were hands gripping my by the feet and shoulders. I was being picked up and carried somewhere.

I flailed wildly, yelling for help. 

“No ones going to help you, now shut the fuck up before I shove a grenade down your fucking throat” the embittered voice screamed out at me. His voice seemed hoarse. 

“Let me FUCKING GO” I yelled back.

There was a distinct punch straight into my stomach that couldn't have possibly knocked more air out of my lungs than it had. They continued to carry me; My vision blurred as they dropped me on the ground, my back landing on when felt like hard stone.

“Now, boys” the hoarse voice questioned “How do we teach this impure queer a lesson?”

I went to speak, trying to stand up as I did so, but as the first word went out of my mouth a boot slammed into my groin. I doubled over in pain, my eyes starting to water. A boot pushed me over and onto my side. 

“I think the best way is to teach him a lesson about what it feels like to be humiliated in front of a large group of people” one of the voices declared.

Oh no...

“I say we strip him down and send him packing. After we beat the shit out of him, of course.” Another voice declared.

The group seemed to roar in a collective approval. I tried to crawl away from them, but two hands grabbed my ankles and started to slide me across the cold stone ground. I screamed out for help.

No response.

“Shut up, you're just going to make this worse for you.”

I hear some sort of clicking noise.

“Lets cut his dick off” One of them joked. My eyes went wide, and the group laughed collectively. 

“Now now, lets not get sent away for murder. Then again...”

“I doubt they'd do anything to us. We're cleaning up the filth.”

“I mean, who would care anyway?”

“He's a faggot, and an impure one at that. Who gives a shit?”

I tried to push myself off the ground, but a boot slammed down on my back and pressed me back down into the ground. The stone was smooth, like marble, but that didn't help the pain as my forehead slammed down into it and bounced off.

Soon enough, the kicks and punches were back. 

It lasted ages.

After a while, they flipped me onto my back. Then they continued with the assault.

They seemed overjoyed with targeting my face. Like it was personal. You don't target someone's face unless its personal, especially in a bare-fist fight. Hitting the bridge of the nose, or really anywhere on the face in general, hurts your fist too much. You wear yourself out too quickly. Go for lightly defended areas, like the stomach.

I knew it was too good to be true. I knew it was too quiet. The weeks of being left alone all led up to this.

What did I do to deserve this?

The firsts and kicks kept coming. Occasionally, a boot found its way to my crotch, which always resulted in my crying out in pain, and them crying out in joy.

They were having a hell of a time.

The fists and kicks started to slow, but the worst was yet to come. I could feel them prying my shoes off. Then they went after my shirt. And then my pants.

I was down to my white boxers.

“Please...” I tried to beg. My voice was quiet; I couldn't muster up any more energy. 

The kicks kept coming

“Please...”

“Shut the FUCK UP” One of them screamed. 

For a brief moment, they weren't hitting me and nobody was touching me. I started to crawl away.

“Oh no you- What the fuck was that?”

I inched away. The pain was unbearable. 

“Who the fuck?”

I found myself collapsing onto my chest. I reached around, trying to find the edge of a sidewalk stone to pull myself forward with. 

There was this distinct sound, like when your gloves come into contact with mats in boxing, that occurred around me. I didn't want to look.

I didn't want to know what they had in store for me next.

Letting me crawl away this far was already torture.

“Get the fu”

Suddenly, there was a crack, like something hard just hit the ground near me. I shuddered. It sounded like what I imagined my head being slammed into the ground sounded like.

“Please no...” I cried out.

Suddenly, what felt like a boot came up from beneath my stomach and slammed into my ribs. I collapsed to the ground.

“Get the fuck...” a voice yelled. I couldn't hear what came next. All I heard was ringing.

“Please...” I began to beg. Tears started to fall from my eyes as I got back onto my stomach and started to try and crawl my way away from them. I could hear running water nearby.

“I promise...” I tried to declare “I'll throw the next fight you and I are in...”

'Why the fuck did I ever run away from home?' I thought to myself. 'Surely my father's beatings wouldn't be this bad....'

Suddenly, a hand grabbed the band of my boxers as I tried to crawl away. I cried out. I begged.

“Please!” My jaw began to shutter as it does when you're about to break down. “I'll throw every fight from now on!”

A cool hand laid down across the arch of my back. A few other hands seemed to take hold of me and pull me towards the sound of the water.

“Please!” I screamed. I could feel my voice disappearing as I screamed. The hoarse yell tapered into a whisper. I tried to flail, but there was no energy left to do so.

“Fine...” I whispered. “Just... do what you will”. 

I was suddenly set down on the ground in a sitting-up position. I could hear murmured talking under the over-arching sound of ringing that seemed to resonate from my head. I was up against what felt like cool marble half-way up my back, ending about where my back would arch. I could hear running water.

Two hands set down on my shoulders, and suddenly my hair was wet. The hands started to shake me, seemingly gently, as water dripped down my face.

“Friedrich”

I sat there, head hung down, eyes closed, for what felt like a while. Whatever was occasionally pouring over my head was at least cool. 

“Friedrich” a voice very close to me said. My shoulders were being shook again. The ringing started to fade away, and I could hear what sounded like the occasional grown near by. Once in awhile, I heard what sounded like leather-on-skin violently.

“Friedricha” The voice screamed. Two hands were suddenly on my face, one on each cheek, and my head was lifted up. 

“Please...” I begged “Just... let me go.”

“You're able to go!” The voice said.

I slowly started to open my eyes, blinking repeatedly; my vision was blurred, with one side being discolored red. There were starbursts coming from the sources of light around me that kept me blinded for a moment, and I kept blinking.

“Its me. You're alright.” The voice said.

As my vision began to clear, I tried to focus on the silhouette in front of me. At first blurried, it cleared up slowly.

Hunched close to me. Short, shaven hair. Built, but no uniform on.

“Who... who are you” I questioned, my voice so hoarse I could barely speak.

“Its Siegfried, your friend.”

All of the wind was blown out of my lungs as I lurched forward, practically knocking the figure in front of me over. I wrapped my arms around them, trying my best not to break down into their shirt.

They slowly pushed me off of them and back into a sitting position. My vision cleared, and I looked at my surroundings.

I was sat up against the side wall near the massive, deep pool that stood in the middle of the campus, the one that the swimmers used. There were two other people standing, and what looked like six others; some on the ground, some crawling away. 

“You're going to be alright” Siegfried's familiar, warm voice declared. 

“'Ow is e?” a British accent questioned. I looked over; standing in a skin-tight long sleeve athletic shirt, basketball shorts and mid-calf socks was Drew. I could see dark splotches across his shirt. 

“I don't know...” Siegfried responded.

“We've gotta get him to the medical bay.” Another voice declared. That voice seemed determined but also showed a bit of shaking. I slowly turned my head to look at them.

Tall and well groomed. Built, wearing a white t-shirt and basketball shorts. The same sort of socks and shoes as Drew. His voice was familiar, but it took me a moment to realize who it was.

It was only as he stepped closer that I realized who it was. Albrecht; standing there rubbing the knuckles of his right hand with his left. His shirt seemed covered in dark spots and stains.

“I.... I'm sorry” I whispered.

“For what?” Drew questioned. 

“For... this.”

“It wasn't your fault” Siegfried declared. What follows is a conversation I had with the group. I couldn't really tell who was responding to my questions.

“You shouldn't have come.” I whispered. 

“You needed help”

“You guys wasted your leave on this.” I asserted.

“You could have been killed.”

“I would have been alright.”

“They brought you to the  pool for a reason.”

“To fuck with me.”

“More than that. You know that.”

“Listen, I'll be alright” I declared as I started to slowly stand up. “You guys can g-”

My legs gave way, and I collapsed to the ground. A set of arms tried to catch me, but they weren't quick enough.

“Where are his pants?” a voice, probably Albrecht's, questioned. 

There was quiet for a bit.

“In the pool, with the rest of his clothes mate...” the British accent hesitantly said.

Two distinct sighs.

“I'll be right back” One of the voices declared.

I sat there, trying to catch my breath and my strength. I could feel what felt like a damp rag being wiped across my face. Occasionally, Siegfried would try and talk to me. 

A few minutes later, I could hear footsteps running across the marble surrounding the pool. I looked up as Albrecht ran from the darkness into the light and up to me. He gestured to Drew and Siegfried, and suddenly I was being lifted up under my shoulders. Within a few moments, I could feel a pair of shorts being pulled up around my waist.

“Lets get him to the medical bay” Siegfried stated. 

“Fuck... I hope he's alright” Albrecht replied.


	8. Chapter 8

I spent three days in the medical bay after that. During those three days, I think I was awake seven hours combined; most of it being spent responding to questions about how I felt, how certain parts of my body felt, and how it felt when someone touched a wound of mine. I didn't really have any visitors besides Siegfried and his friends, except for my coach who dropped by. Apparently no one had told him something happened to me until he saw Siegfried and, figuring we were friends, asked if he'd seen me recently. I had missed boxing practice on Saturday and he was upset.

Our conversation was... uninteresting, at best. Awkward, at worst. He sat in a chair next to my bed and tried to get answers out of me; who did it, when I'd be out of the bay, etc. I didn't really feel up to being interrogated, and rebuffed most of his questions. 

I remember lying back down in the bed cot as he stood up and walked out, seemingly angered. It had been two days since that night, and the doctors said I would be able to go back to my daily business soon. I was happy to go back, but it certainly didn't make my body feel better; my eye had swollen, my ribs ached when I rolled over in bed, and sleeping was close to impossible without the drugs the doctor pumped me full of. 

It was about half an hour after I layed down that I heard some nurses near my cot whispering. I tried not to care, but they were poor at hiding their conversation.

“I'm worried about that boy.”

“Who? Weimer?”

My last name.

“Yes. This is the first time he seems to have fallen asleep in days without drugs.”

“I think he's depressed.”

“Depressed?”

“I looked into the medical records; he's been here eight times since he first joined here in December, only twice for injuries sustained during sport.”

“Were the others accidents, or?”

“Like this. Bruises, fractured bones, sprains, black eyes, stitches, and more.”

“God...”

I shifted in bed, trying to get them to go away, and soon after they wandered off.

I sighed; I tried not to admit it, especially to myself, but I really was depressed. Ever since the case with Erik, my entire life had seemed to fall apart. I found myself questioning my attendance here almost every day. I found myself getting less and less interested in my coursework. The only thing that seemed to keep me going anymore was boxing, and that was slipping away too. What was the point in being good at something if everyone hates you despite what you bring to the table?

Why should I keep doing what I'm doing if my mere presence is just going to result in people going after me? 

I sometimes found myself wondering what I had done to deserve this. What mistake had I made, whether in this life or before, to deserve this pain that I was going through? What made god decide this was my plan?

Being continually targeted didn't help. I knew what I was getting into when I forged my father's signature on the acceptance letter, but it said nothing about this. The Youth had instilled a sense of strength in me; that survival of the fittest was important, but survival of the fittest didn't account for being alone in my case. No matter your strength, no matter your intelligence, and no matter your skills, being alone meant being weak.

Lying in my cot in the empty medical bay that night, I could feel myself slipping deeper and deeper into the void. Eventually, I found myself crying. I was completely alone, in the grand scheme of things,  with little hope for the future. Sooner or later, the missed beatings and the times I'd had my ass saved would catch up.

I woke up the next morning in a grog to someone shaking me gently. I slowly opened my eyes,and the blanket fell from my chest as I sat up, looking around.

Siegfried sat in the wooden chair that my coach had put there the night before.

“Hey Siegfried...” I croaked, rubbing my eyes. “Whats up?”

He sighed.

“Not much, you? How'ya feeling?” He questioned. 

He seemed off. He sat in a way that gave off a sense of discomfort.

“Doing alright, all things considered” I responded. I looked him up and down.

Something was up.

“Your swellings gone away, I see”

I rubbed my eye; it seemed to be back to normal. I gave a slight, relieved sigh. 

“So what brings you here?” I questioned. 

“Just checking up on you” he said, smiling. I nodded slowly. 

“I'm just worried is all” He spoke up again.

Siegfried was my best friend. He was there for me early on, despite the difference between us. The Youth, and the academies we were sent to after, were supposed to dissolve any semblance of class, but we all knew there were differences in families. For Christs sake, when I first went through the genealogy tests for the Academy, they were confused by the results; I had spent so much time  in the sun they thought my genealogy was wrong. 

Siegfried, on the other hand, was about the poster boy for the academy. His father was the Minister of Aviation, and his mother was gorgeous. He had two younger brothers and a younger sister, none of which fell far from the tree in terms of brains or looks. 

“I'll be alright”

“Doesn't make me any less worried”

“I mean, you shouldn't be”

“Why not?”

“They left, didn't they?”

“They'll be back someday.”

“Well, when they're back I'll be ready.”

“Doesn't make you any less of a target.”

“I....”

I didn't really know how to react to that.

He sort of blew me out of the water with that one.

“I won't always be.” I responded, half-heartily.

“You've been a target ever since...”

“Erik” I finished his sentence for him.

“Yeah.”

“I try not to think about it” I said flatly. 

“I know, I just... I get worried. I know I haven't been the best friend in the world.”

“You've been great”

“I didn't talk to you for like, two months after I was promoted”

It was true. Even he had seemed to abandon me. But I chalked it up to him being busy; being a DC meant a lot of work and a lot of friends to make. 

“Well... you were busy.”

Besides, he eventually came back. He didn't abandon me forever. And unlike others, he didn't go from a best friend to chief torturer overnight. 

“Busy... yeah..” He said, seemingly scoffing at himself.

“Its fine” I said, shaking my head. 

There was quiet for a moment.

“You're like, my only friend, so I don't mind; besides, everyone needs a break from people once in awhile.” I asserted.

“A break” he said, repeating what I'd said.

“Yeah, a break.”

“Why would I need a break from hanging out with you?”

“Because... well... I'm a lot to deal with”

“How so?”

“I...”

“You think you're a burden Friedrich, I get it. But you're wrong”

“Its not”

“Don't lie to me for a second. Ever since what happened with Erik, you've been like this.”

“I-”

“I can't pretend to know what its like to go through a betrayal like that, and I won't, but-”

“Siggi, please”

“No. You're not alright. I can tell.”

“They said that I can leave later on tod-”

“Not like that. You're not... alright up there.”

“What?” I questioned. I looked at him confused, then looked down at the bed. 

“I've just... been going through a lot lately” I murmured.

“Without sharing it with me.” He responded sharply.

“You don't need to hear what I've got to complain about” 

“I'm your friend. I want to hear it. Friends do that for each other.”

“And how would I be able to repay you?”

“Friends aren't supposed to worry about that.”

We both fell quiet for a while. I looked up at him once in awhile; he was much more reserved than usual. His shoulders slumped, his hands twiddling in his lap. 

“I....” He said quietly.

I looked up at him curiously.

“You're my best friend. So I need to stop hiding things from you.” He said.

“Everyone deserves privacy.”

He sighed.

“Not like that.”

I watched as he stood up, scooting his chair forward. He was about a foot away from me now, and I could hear his heavy breathing.

“I...” he stammered. “I'm more like you than I wanted to admit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I understand your situation a little bit better than I let on to.”

I looked at him confused, giving him that 'what?' sort of head shake.

“I... well... how do I say this.”

“Say what?” I said, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

He took a deep breath. 

“I...” he stammered. “I... I'm not straight.”

I blinked, staring at him. He's bi? Gay?

Really?

“Really?” I questioned, almost unable to believe what he had just said.

“I... I'm dating a guy. And I like him more than I've liked most of the girls i've dated.”

I laid back against the metal 'headboard' of my cot, and looked over at him. 

“Who?” I questioned. I wanted to say so much more, I had so many more questions, but I couldn't barrage him yet. As I looked him up and down, his head was in his hands; he was struggling to even say what he had said.

“He uh...”

I sat patiently. Eventually, I took his hand as he lowered it away from his face.

“He's not out. Neither am I... except to you and him, I guess.”

My heart had started racing; I wanted to hug him, to let him know that it was going to be alright, but that just wasn't what was done here. You didn't show emotions that often or that much at one time. Especially at a rank as high as his. I didn't want to put him off.

“Its fine, you don't have to tell me” I asserted to him.

“His... his name is... is Hefe. Here, here's... a picture of him.”

I slowly slid across the bed, swinging my feet off the side and let my toes apprehensively touch the cold floor before setting my feet down. He passed me his smartphone and I looked the picture over.

Shorter than Siegfried and I; maybe five-foot ten, medium-length brown hair, not necessarily that built. 

“He's good looking” I commented.

I looked up at Siegfried to find his hands over his eyes. There was a muffled sound, like crying.

“Siegfried...”

“I just....” He muttered “don't know what to do”

I looked to the corner of the room where the attending doctor sat at a table with his feet up as he read through a manila folder.

“Hey doc?” I hollered

He looked up, putting the folder down. Siegfried looked up from his hands and glared at me.

“Am I good to go?” I questioned

He walked across the room towards me, standing at the edge of my bed. 

“Well, are you feeling up to it?”

“Yes sir”

“Friedrich-” Siegfried tried to speak

“I'm good to go, doc.” I asserted as I side glared at Siegfried.

“Very well. You may go” He nodded. “Need help with your uniform?”

“No thanks, sir” I said, reaching to the cot across from me where my uniform laid. One of the nurses had gotten it for me the day before, apparently. 

I started to dress as I looked at Siegfried. He was leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, staring at me; not a stare of anger, but one of those looks where its like they're looking through you and beyond. Like they're thinking deeply about something.

In the few minutes it took to get dressed, he seemed not to change expression. I had been struggling to get my boots back on when he seemed to snap out of his daze, kneeling on the floor and helping me force my boots on.

“You're sure you're okay to go?” He whispered.

“Yeah. I want to talk to you about this where you're comfortable. In private.” I replied.

I could hear him sigh.

“And I don't want to miss the glider runs tomorrow anyway”.

“After munitions training?”

“Yeah. Hear we're going to use live grenades tomorrow”

“There's no way they're going to let you up on one of those gliders, Friedrich” He rebutted

“Eh, but I can still help tow the line.” I reasserted. 

I stood up and started to walk, and despite my leg trying to give out the first few steps, I did so. Siegfried helped me adjust my uniform, and we were out and onto the campus.

“You still look pretty fucked up” He commented, looking at me as we walked in the bright sun of the afternoon.

“Well, yeah” I commented. 

We walked in silence for awhile. As we neared the large fountain in front of the officers dorm, he sighed heavily.

“I didn't mean to make you come out here before you were ready to.”

“I'm fine” I insisted. “We need to talk in a place we're both comfortable, and that wasn't it.”

I followed him through his dorm building and up several flights of stairs; he was much faster up them than me, and it took me a bit to catch up to him on his floor. He was a divisional commander; he was entitled to one of the nicest rooms the academy had to offer, and that meant one with a great view. Unfortunately, it also meant a lot of stairs to get up there.

As I made it to the top of the staircase, he was already far down the hall and unlocking his dorm room door. I followed, stepping into the cool air that was his room.

I hadn't felt air conditioning in ages. The heat of the summer was something you got used to, especially with the heavy uniforms we were assigned, but the summer was finally coming to an end. I always loved winter. 

The low, steady hum of a window AC unit commanded attention as I walked into the room before I shut the door. Siegfried's room was large; much larger than my own, and he didn't share it with anyone else. A large queen bet was pushed into the corner of the room, a television hung on the wall across from it, with various gaming systems sitting on a small table under it. A far cry from what I had in my room.

I walked across the room, pulling the rolling chair out from his desk and wheeled it over to the bed he had plopped down on. I took a seat, and twiddled my thumbs for a minute as I thought.

He was a lot more like me than he had let on in the past.

This whole thing came out of left field. It was fucking crazy. Siegfried was gorgeous, but he was always a ladies man in my mind. He always walked... like he had just fucked someone the night before. Like he was always in that after-high of sex.

Not like I'd know about what it felt like, considering... everything, but... you know.

“I'm sorry.” 

I snapped out of my daydream and looked up to find Siggi sitting on the edge of his bed staring at me. His eyes were red.

“For what?” I questioned, leaning forward in the chair.

“I just... had to tell someone. I just had to.”

“I don't blame you for that. I know that if I had had the chance to come out on my own accord, I would have told you first.”

He was quiet for a minute.

“Really?” He questioned

“Really.”

I don't know what happened, but he started sobbing uncontrollably. It started slow, but soon enough he was in shambles. It lasted for awhile, and I did the best I could to comfort him. 

“I just.... I dont know” he stammered

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No, just you so far. I'm going to tell others ofcourse, but...”

“But?”

“But... I dont know”

“Whats holding you back?”

He was quiet for awhile.

“I'm just worried my friends will abandon me.”

That really hit home. When I was outed because of the case, a lot of people whom I had been friends with since the first day I attended the academy abandoned me. Within three days of Erik being arrested, I was practically alone, and the few that remained eventually left me as well. Even Siegfried didn't talk to me for awhile. 

“You're afraid that what happened to me will happen to you?” I questioned

He seemed to get more reserved, his shoulders slumping.  

“You're not going to go through what I went through Siegfried. You're coming out on your own terms, at your own pace, and you'll get to pick and choose who knows.”

“I mean... its not like I should be worried, right? Times are changing... all of my friends know you're gay and they don't think of you any differently.”

Why do I have to be 'the gay guy'? 

“Besides, we're all going to be future leaders in some regard. We'll be able to change the laws over time...” 

Why can't I just be the boxer that happens to be gay? 

“I'm going to have to tell my parents sooner or later... I can't really bring a guy home on Vday and surprise them, can I?”

I didn't reply.

“Besides, I've heard them talking about how gay people should be able to get married too... that they should be left to do what they please”

My heart started beating. The more he talked about his parents, the more it reminded me of my own. I still thought about my mother and father all the time; how my mom probably cried when she read the letter I left on the kitchen table the night I ran from home, having forged my father's signature. 

How my father probably screamed and threw things when he read the part saying that if they came for me, I'd get him arrested for his being a revolutionary all those years ago.

They were still looking for those people who bombed the National War Museum, too...

I missed home a lot. 

The way our small home looked in the middle of the empty fields right after they had been picked. 

“I just don't get why people fucking care”

The way the wheat swayed in the middle of August, and how my Labrador would run through it as fast as she could, often tackling me while I walked through it to check for disease or bugs.

“Our friends aren't going to care...”

All of my friends... 

All of the guys from the local Youth League. My old boxing buddies, and our coach.

I left a lot of people without saying goodbye. A lot of people I wished I could still see. A lot of people whom I'd been friends with since I was a child.

I left the guy whom made me realize I was gay... without saying goodbye.

I know why I came here; because I wanted to better myself, because this school had the best coaches, the best resources to help me grow as an athlete, and was a farm-school for the nation's Olympic teams. Because attending one of the national academies was supposed to earn you a spot somewhere above the normal world. And the Lions Guard Academy was the best of the best; the nation's elite went there. The sons and daughters of Marshals, Ministers and more. The Emperor's children went there.

I guess I thought that maybe, just maybe, If I went there I'd be able to come home successful one day. That my parents seeing me all grown up with an important position like governor of some far-off territory or agricultural minister would make them change their minds. That they'd come running to me and apologize for the way they treated me.

My mother was a saint for my entire life up until I came out, and then things started to change rapidly. I knew because of the little things; she stopped smiling when I came home from the boxing matches late at night. My laundry stopped getting done. My shoes stopped getting moved off the porch when it rained. 

Things changed really fast at home. I think I came out in august, and it was October when I arrived at the academy. I hadn't told my parents that a group of boxers from the Lions Guard Academy had come by our boxing club to try and beat us down. I hadn't told them that I had beaten their champion boxer to a pulp. I didn't mention that the academies coach had told me that he saw “promise” in me. 

By then, neither of my parents cared. I was their only son, and in their minds, I guess I was useless now that I couldn't bring grand-kids into their world. That I wasn't going to continue the blood line, so what was the point?

I could still hear my mom's words after I told her. I was sitting there sobbing, and all she said was “no son of mine...” before getting up and walking away. My father hit me after that. 

I remember sleeping in the barn that night, my Labrador lying next to me. I could hear screaming from across the field where the house was. I think I miss my dog most of all. She never showed anything but love for me. She was the first thing I told when I came to terms with my sexuality. All she did was smile. 

The train ride to the academy was long; I remember hopping on the train in the middle of the night, and I was one of... maybe four people on it. It was the first time I had gone on one of those trains that go three-hundred miles an hour; it didn't really feel that fast. 

Not until you looked out the window. 

Seeing everything you know fly by you in a few minutes, soon going through mountains and through great cities, it was strange. It took four hours to get from the train station near my home to the station in the Capitol. The only person who spoke to me on that whole ride was the conductor collecting my ticket, whom asked me where I was going. When I told him the academy in Konigsberg, he smiled, saying “good for you, son!”

I thought that was a good sign. That things would be better. And, in fairness, for all of the struggles and violence the first year, it was better.  And it kept getting better, at least until a few months ago. After everything with Erik...

Why can't I just be normal? All I am is a disappointment...

“Friedrich?”

I didn't want to be a disappointment. I really didn't.

“Friedrich, are you alright?”

All I wanted was to be myself...


	9. Chapter 9

We talked some more that night, and I left around nine. I really needed some fucking sleep.

The next morning, I awoke with reveille and rushed through my morning routine to get to one of the  academy buses fast enough to get a seat in the back. I was walking across campus towards the four white buses parked by the armory when I heard someone holler.

“Friedrich!” The familiar voice beckoned.

I turned, continuing to walk as I saw Siegfried coming towards me. I smiled and waved, reaching out to shake his hand as he stood next to me.

“Feeling better?” He questioned.

“Yeah, my side still hurts a bit but everything else seems to be getting back to normal” I smiled. 

“Good...good.”

He seemed in a much better mood today; his shoulders were broad, his smile wide, and even the atmosphere around him seemed positive. 

“So, you excited for the glider run? Maybe you'll actually get to ride!” 

“Well yeah. Just gotta get the grenade test over with” I remarked

“Meh, it is what it is. You've never used one before?” 

“Only test ones. You?”

“I've used a real one before. Its kind of scary at first but they have you use a few test ones before the real one to get the hang of it. They still blow up and all, but just in a bunch of smoke.”

“Kind of scary that they use live grenades, isn't it...?”

“Meh, its not like we're going off to war. The guys in the Army do it all the time, right?”

“I guess. Just sort of nervous, you know?”

“You'll be fine. You've probably got the best arm anyway, right?”

I laughed, nodding. Within a short time, we were on one of the buses in the far back, chatting away as it started to fill up. A few more friends of Siegfried's sat around us, and after the instructor came through to do roll-call, we were off.

I didn't really get the chance to get out of the Academy, and to be honest there wasn't really a reason; with all of my money being sent home to my parents, I didn't really have anything to do. The court case was the last time I'd been out, and even then it was the first time since I'd arrived at the academy. 

The city was gorgeous.

Even when a holiday parade wasn't days away, everything was bright and colorful. Flags were hung from almost every building, the streets were wide and clean, and the people all seemed happy. Like bees, they rushed from place to place, all with something important to do. 

We spent most of the bus ride through the city chatting about basically everything, though they were all mostly occupied with drooling at the beautiful women the bus passed, and soon enough they were rating them.

“Damn look at her chest!” Chris hollered

“I'd give her an... eight” Siegfried replied.

“An eight? Come on, that's totally at least a nine” 

“How about you, Major Fredricks? What do you think she is?” a voice yelled to our instructor

There was quiet as you could see the officer's visor cap look out the window and turn back to us with a bit of a glare. The only sounds in the bus were those that came from it, and those that came from outside. 

“I'd give her a seven” He bellowed, his expression quickly changing from a serious one to one of laughter. The bus filled with the sound of laughter. 

Though abnormal for instructors to have that kind of relationship with the guys, Major Fredricks was a general exception; he was much younger than the average instructor, and thus much closer to us in age, giving him the ability to relate with us. He also so happened to have graduated from the Academy itself, thus giving him a level of understanding of what it was like to go through a school like this much better than the other instructors. He was stoic and relentless in his methods, but he was human.

We spent another ten minutes driving into the city looking around at girls that our bus passed by, and I had to admit that the women were beautiful. There was something about the women in this country that was unmistakable; they were strong but agile, wholesome yet beautiful. I suppose that's the reason our people look as they do.

Suddenly, all of us were thrown forward as the bus seemed to screech to a halt. You could hear Major Fredricks yell “what the hell!” at the bus driver, before going quiet. We all raced to look out the windows.

A mass of people holdings large banners and sighs were on all sides of the street, marching past the bus and towards where we had just come from. The level of noise began to sharply increase as their shouts and screams grew more and more frequent. Though they seemed to be leaving our buses alone, this still wasn't normal.

I guess in order to understand why I think and act the way I do, I owe you an explanation of the land in which I live.

We're going through a lot right now, though we're mostly shielded by the national movements at the academy. There's this great dichotomy going on right now; there are those whom belief the practices that our nation has followed since the last great war need to remain in place for us to continue on a successful, prosperous path. We had to do a lot of things to keep ourselves stable back then. That's one of the reasons the academy was founded; to help bring up a successful, qualified generation of leaders. 

The Second Great War was extremely hard on our country, but we came out on top. Unfortunately, the cost was infinitely high. Entire cities destroyed, millions of young men dead, and exponentially more civilians uprooted. Farms were salted, bridges destroyed, factories bombed. 

After the war, it took a long time to fix things. Those years saw the rise of a lot of decisions that still stand today. The Youth and the Lions Guard were formed, the academy created, and more. The extreme importance of purity and responsibility to procreate was instilled in both men and women, and a lot of freedoms were erased, at least for a while. But it was all in exchange for the prosperity and success we've achieved today, right? 

At least, that's what the reasons were on the surface. 

There were things that were done that were unspeakable. Things that were morally reprehensible and wrong, downright evil, on every level. The culture that was built around the military and the royal family at that time was more like a cult of personality than anything else. People were fanatical, and many still are today.

I remember my Grandfather telling me, when I was younger, that “we did what we had to do to survive, and there are those today whom seek to take us back...”. He was, of course, probably talking about my father, but I digress. However, this is the same front that seeks to uphold the laws that stand in the way of social progress today; blocking everything from same-sex marriage and other social programs, they are perceived as generally holding us back.

Its hard for me to express what they stand for, and I'm not sure why. 

You know that stereotypical image of an “American” you grew up with? A cowboy on a horse with a pistol whose only limit was, I don't know, a fence to stop his horse? You knew it wasn't true, you knew people didn't ride around on horses with America, but that's what it felt like.

Here, our stereotype was usually true, though we didn't consider it a stereotype, more like a roll model. Always a guy, they were about six foot two, built, and a soldier. They were strong, stoic, and willing to sacrifice. Most of all, they were a great leader whom, under pressure, knew exactly what to do. 

That was what we were taught to be like from an early age. Strong, stoic, brave and fearless.

The other side sought to break those teachings to pieces; that every individual should be able to choose what they want without any pressure at all. There are those who would do literally anything for change. Those marching past our buses right now. 

They believe that what was done, and the results of that... unacceptable. The prosperity, the success, and the wealth, are all stained with blood. They seek to turn back the clocks and 'make right' the perceived wrongs at whatever cost. Furthermore, they seek to change our entire society: to dismantle what they perceive as obsessive violence in The Youth and the Academies, and open the floodgates. They also seek to dethrone the Emperor and replace the crown with a democratic system of government. 

But they also support social changes that are more reasonable; people should be left to live their lives in their own manner, same-sex marriage should be legal, and more.

I've tried my best to stay out of it, but you could consider me in the middle. I'm proud of my heritage, of my country, and of the progress we've made, but there is room for improvement, just not at the price the reactionaries want it at. You have to give people time to change their minds, and you have to pull at their hearts to help them along. 

You can't expect them to wake up one morning and suddenly support something they've been told for their entire lives was a sign of mental illness or a degenerate tendency. 

At least, that's how I justified it.

I watched the group of protesters closely; some were carrying signs decrying the death of a recent protester at the hands of the military. Others held signs calling for the Emperor to be ousted. A lot of people on that side thought that he was sitting idly by as the country started to burn at the roots. 

The bus lurched forward a few moments later, and within a few minutes we were out of the crowd. We passed a large group of police atop horses; between the two large mobs were a small group of people dressed in army uniforms, seemingly trying to talk to the protesters. They seemed calm. 

At least someone was trying to keep things from igniting.

“Well boys” the Major yelled “Now you've seen your first protest.”

There was a general chatter of laughter from the group, though a few guys didn't seem amused. 

“Somethings gotta give sooner or later” Siegfried muttered, looking at me.

I sighed, nodding. I looked down the aisle of the bus and watched as the Major seemed to be discussing something with someone on the other end of his phone; he seemed reserved and tense, unlike usual. Shortly after the rest of the guys on the bust returned to rating women by their bust size, he spoke up.

“Gentlemen, we won't be having the munitions exam today” he declared as he stood up, holding the seat to keep him steady as the bus bounced with the road. “The offices and soldiers we were supposed to work with have been sent off to try and quell the protests occurring throughout the capitol, so we will have to postpone the exam.”

There was quiet for awhile, before someone spoke up.

“Major, does this mean we're going back to the academy?”

“No cadet, we'll just be going to glider training earlier. You'll be paired up with some of the gentlemen in the earlier group.”

Nobody seemed to complain; flying in a glider was a hell of an experience, after all. From what I was told by people who did it last year, it was a lot of fun too.

I had never had the opportunity to fly at all, not to mention in a glider. I spent my childhood looking up at planes and birds, always jealous of their freedom. I was stuck on the ground, often wandering the fields with a scythe or on a tractor. 

The rest of the trip out of the city was peaceful; our bus convoy seemed to speed across the huge highways, underpasses and overpasses, until we were out of the city and heading towards the hills. I spent the two-hour long ride chatting with Siegfried, though nothing of real consequence was discussed. I think the most exciting thing was when it dawned on us all that we hadn't eaten breakfast. That realization spread through the whole bus, who promptly almost overthrew the driver. 

It took the Major promising that we'd eat a big lunch during glider practice to get us to calm down, a big cracking smile on his face as he shouted across at us, getting shouts in return.

I think we arrived in the hills of the Hinterland at about nine in the morning; the sun was still steadily rising through the sky, and as I hopped off the bottom stair of the bus, the overwhelming smell of pine trees and other life filled my lungs. Being back in the relative wilderness, when compared with the city around the academy, was a welcome return. I'd spent my whole life in the countryside, enjoying the fresh air. There wasn't a factory for hundreds of miles out there in the Golderfeld. 

“Damn... it really does smell different out here” Siegfried remarked, standing next to me.

“Yeah... reminds me of home.”

I scanned across the horizon; our bus was parked atop one of the many high hills out here in the Hinterland; they spread for what seemed like forever, from horizon to horizon. The only thing that seemed to break the green of the grass was the deeper-green of the trees that stood atop some of the hills and in the valleys below. 

There were a few shadows flying around atop other hills, and it took me a bit to realize that they were other gliders. I could just barely make out the figure of one of them; the wooden framed glider soaring through the sky on a hill a few miles away.

Siegfried and I walked across the field among the group of other guys, and we all collected by one of the instructors who was actively waving in a glider; the thin, wooden framed plane had been circling overhead when we pulled up, and was now coming down for a landing. Riding on it was someone in an officers uniform, though as the glider landed on the ground and slid across the grass on its undercarriage sled, I found myself unable to recognize who the pilot was. 

There were like.. a thousand of us at the academy, after all.

I watched as the glider slid to a halt and the pilot unbuckled himself, pulling the leather pilots cap off and shaking his hair around as a group of guys started to slide the glider to the other side of the hill and reposition it for take off.

“Watch what they do carefully, because you're going to have to do what they're doing as well!” the Major bellowed, ushering us forward to watch the group of guys attaching hooked-ropes to the glider. Most of us watched carefully, examining the way in which the ropes were attached. 

I watched carefully as the next two pilots hopped on the glider, securing themselves in before a group of guys got in position in front of the glider. They split into two lines, grabbing hold of the ropes and starting to pull. 

It took a few feet, but the glider started to move forward. As the group picked up their pace, the glider started to bump up and down across the hill, catching short spurts of air here and there before bouncing back down. As the group of guys pulling the glider reached the edge of the hill, they stopped, dropping the ropes to the ground. 

The glider rushed past them a few moments later, blowing them around. 

It launched off the side of the hill, and moments later I watched as the hooks detached from the sides of the wooden frame and dropped to the ground. The glider bobbed up and down as it flew through the air for a moment, before stabilizing and soaring off into the sky. Both the group of guys dragging the glider and our group roared in excitement, a few guys throwing their fists in the air in excitement. 

I was among them.

These sort of field-trips were normal for those of us whom had been in The Youth, especially when we were younger. The Youth did a lot for me; for those of us whom lived our lives in the wheat fields of Golderfeld, they took us to places we could never imagine going. We visited factories and mines, the capitol and its monuments, and the Blue Mountain. But the trip I remember most was the trip to the beach during the heat of the summer.

I had never seen the ocean before then, and hadn't for years after. It struck me how powerful the ocean was, its ability to give, then reclaim, the land every day, week after week, century after century. Mother nature was truly in charge, and she often reminded us of that fact. I still remember the smell of the ocean and how those tall things that look like corn-dogs would sway among the sand dunes, despite how long it had been since I'd been to the ocean.

I really wanted to go back there some day. 

My attention from the glider was interrupted as a voice close behind me hollared “Hey Friedrich!”

Before I could turn, I could feel a set of hands on the legs of my pants, and before I could react they were at my ankles. I quickly bent over, pulling them back up, and raised my fist in anger as I turned around.

Standing behind me, chuckling heartidly, was Albrecht. He quickly raised his hands in defense, trying to hold back his laughter as he tried to get me to calm down

“Hey hey hey, It was just a joke! I didn't mean anything by it!” 

I smiled, lowering my arm and just staring at him as I shoved my hands in my pockets to prevent someone else from surprising me. 

“Sheesh man, I was really scared there” He joked “Thought I was about to see stars”

“Well, I don't usually have people who like me mess with me like that” I remarked, smiling.

“Well there's a first time for everything, right?” He questioned. He seemed to glow in the bright sun that shone down on us, his blond hair shimmering in the breeze.

“Well” I shrugged “I guess, just know that I'm not used to friends doing stuff like that, so I can't really promise you won't get hit”

He laughed, rolling his eyes as he walked between Siegfried and I.

The smell of his cologne was carried by the breeze and seemed to float around me as we stood there, chatting as we waiting for our turn to take a trip on the glider.

“You ever come out to a place like this?” Albrecht questioned me.

“Yeah...” I returned “I lived in the Golderfeld before I came to the academy.”

“Damn, really? Thats a long ways away from the capitol!”

“Yeah... sure is. Haven't been back since.”

“You haven't gone back for like, V-Day or Christmas?”

“Uh...no...” I stammered. “My parents and I... don't really get along.”

“Oh” he returned, seeming a bit regretful that he'd mentioned that.

“But its alright. Just means I get to spend the holidays in quiet when everyone else goes home” I tried to take a positive spin on the subject. In truth, it did sort of hurt spending the national holidays alone. I tried to call my parents last Christmas, but they didn't answer.

I guess it was for the better. 

I looked around as the breeze blew across our hill, blowing my hair all over the place as I craned my neck to watch a glider fly high over our bus. I could just barely make out two people riding on the thin, wooden framed seats, before my attention was caught by conversation between the guys nearby.

“Haven't ridden one of these since last year” a familiar voice remarked. I turned, discovering that a few of Siegfried's friends had gathered around; Drew, Christoph, Hefe and Tjaden were standing with Albrecht and Siegfried, casually waiting for the glider to come back down for their turn.

“Yeah, right? Its a hell of a lot more fun than the helicopter” Chris remarked

“Shit thats right, whens your Dad taking you to the States again?” Drew questioned.

“Not sure. He's got some thing to deal with the Polish, but I think he's gonna go meet the US President later next month, so maybe then” Chris responded. In the few weeks that I'd gotten to know the guys Siegfried hung out with, I learned that Chris's father was the foreign secretary for Alte-Koniggratz; he worked with foreign ambassadors, ministers, and often enough with the leaders of foreign countries themselves. 

“Damn, that's awesome, I'll have to give you a list of stuff to bring back for me that I can't get here” Drew remarked. 

“Alright. Just gotta hope my Dad doesn't get tied up with fuckin Putin and his oil games...” Chris muttered. 

From what I remember reading in the news, there were problems with the Russians and Polish, something about fuel pipes that the Russians were threatening to close. Maybe we were going to build some that connected to Poland to help them further themselves away from the Russias.

They always seemed to cause problems.

“Whats your Dad say about Obama?” Tjaden questioned

“He says he's a great guy; down to earth and charismatic, but also a real family man. They've got a lot of fuckin' problems going on there, so I don't know how he does it. Especially knowing his term is almost up and they've got that fuckin' nut running...” 

“Fuck man, World War Threes inbound with that guy. Who do you think we'd side with in a war between the US and Russia?”

“No way we'd go with the Russians. Remember what they did to us in the war?” Siegfried remarked. 

The group went silent. 

Those were hard times. My grandfather used to talk about what they went through. The fighting in the streets, the mass executions, the cities burned to the ground.

We worked for decades to reverse all that damage.

The group seemed to turn to Albrecht for an answer. He just looked at them and shrugged.

“I'm not Emperor yet” he joked.

The group laughed, and I joined in. He seemed to be pretty good at turning a down situation into a happy one. 

We all looked over as a Glider swooped down, bouncing across the hill before sliding to a stop. The two pilots took a moment to unbuckle their belts before hopping off and tossing their helmets onto the empty seats, which only remained empty for a few moments before I saw Christoph and Tjaden hop on. 

“Group D, your turn for launch crew!” the Major yelled. That was our bus. 

Our group divided, half of us picking up one rope and the rest the other. I stood with Siegfried and Albrecht, watching as the guy at the head of the rope attached the hook to the in-part of the glider. We waited a few minutes as the Major examined the glider, making sure that it was stable, before we began the launch.

The Major yelled his countdown; 5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 – GO!

Both teams took hold of their ropes and began to rush down the hill. We moved slow at first, trying to get the heavy glider to actually start moving took a lot of strength, but once it got started it really got moving. The faster we ran, the more and more the glider bounced into the air. Soon enough, we were running straight towards the end of the hill, and the person closest to the edge slammed to a halt, causing the rest of us to pile over him. 

I only caught a glimpse of the glider zooming past us and into the air before I was buried under a group of guys that included Siegfried. The weight above me started to grow lighter and lighter, and soon enough I was being pulled up and set onto my feet. 

I stood there watching the gliders on my own for awhile, before I was spooked by a familiar voice next to me.

“So, considering what happened the other day...” the familiar voice remarked.

I looked over to find Siegfried standing there, and gave him a bit of a surprised look.

“Oh, sorry, didn't mean to scare you”

“No worries” I remarked, laughing.

“So” he repeated, starting to walk away from the group. “Based on our last conversation...”

“About the politics?” I questioned, remembering what we were talking about on the bus. It was clear he was trying to get away from the group, so I followed.

“No, last night...”

I sighed, but tried my best to hide it with a stretch. I don't think he was fooled. 

“What about it?” I questioned.

“You didn't really.. talk...” he remarked.

“It was your time, not mine” 

I shoved my hands in my pockets, looking around as the May breeze blew between us.

“I hope you aren't mad at me.”

“Why would I be?”

“Because I hid it from you.”

“Its your privacy. Like I said, everyone's entitled to some privacy.”

There was quiet between us for awhile. He was sincerely confusing me, but I tried to play it off by watching the gliders fly past us. 

“Are... you upset that I'm with someone?”

I quickly turned my head, looking at him confused.

“Why would I be mad?” I interrogated.

“I-”

“Are you happy with...” I sputtered, looking around to ensure no one was there. When I was confident, I finished my sentence; “him?”

“Yeah. He's great. He brings out a lot in me...”

“Then yeah I'm happy for you” I smiled, jokingly punching him in the chest. 

“Cause if he mistreats you, I'll beat the shit outa him” 

“Trust me, I'm the strong one in the relationship and you can kick my ass, so I don't think you'll have to worry about that”.

We were quiet for awhile, and I found myself turning back to watching the gliders. Watching them took me back to watching the geese fly over the farmlands in the early to mid fall, heading to their winter homes. I had always been jealous of their ability to fly.

Siegfried broke the silence.

“Have you... ever though of, you know, finding someone else?”

I sighed heavily, looking over at him for a moment. I thought for a while, before shrugging.

“I don't know”

He didn't seem to reply, though he looked at me like he was waiting for me to finish a sentence whose answer he wasn't happy with.

“I just.. don't really want to go through what I went through again” I stammered. 


	10. Chapter 10

“Understandable” he replied. “Its just, I don't know, I hate to see you like this.”

“I'm fine” I rebutted

“You'd be better with someone.”

I shrugged, sighing. 

“Sometimes... there are just people who don't...” I paused, feeling my throat going tense. I tried to hide it by coughing. 

“there are just people who don't have someone out there for them. Like their soulmate disappeared somewhere along the lines, leaving the other side without anyone, you know?” I managed to spit out. 

“I mean...” Siegfried stuttered, trying to find some way to rebuke what I had just said.

“Sometimes, God has to use some of us to teach others lessons” I whispered, kicking the grass beneath me. 

It was quiet for awhile. Siegfried gave me that look like he didn't approve of what I said, but didn't know how to reply without making the situation worse.

Sooner or later, I started walking back to the group as I watched the glider start to circle in for another landing. 

“Everyone has someone.” Siegfried said firmly. “Just because it doesn't feel like it right now doesn't mean it isn't true” he tried to reassure me.

“Eh...” I replied immediately. “I'll be fine, trust me” 

I smiled at him, trying to assure him it'd be alright. I didn't want a scene now.

We went through the same launch process at least two dozen times, letting people get off the glider, new pilots get on, and then launch them into the air. It was mid-afternoon by the time most of the guys were done. I hadn't gone yet, but as the day progressed I started to not feel up to it; I found myself thinking over what Siegfried had said too much, and could feel myself sinking into that type of thinking.

Besides, the guys I'd rather fly with had already gone, and lord knows I wasn't confident enough to go up there alone.

“Alright Gentlemen, there are only a few left whom haven't gone. Whose next!?” the Major bellowed.

A hand pushed my shoulder, trying to shove me forward. I looked back to find Siegfried smirking.

“Come on, you're up” He said

“I'm alright” I remarked, my hands sliding into my pockets. 

“Dude... everyone gets a chance.”

“I'm fine, really. I'm just... not up to it right now.”

He gave me a concerned luck, but before I could say anything someone had grabbed my wrist and yanked me through the group, pulling me to the front. The Major looked at me and smiled.

“Friedrich, perfect!” he said as he tossed me one of the leather pilots caps. I caught it reluctantly, sighing as I walked forward. Didn't really have a choice, after all...

“Who else!?” The major bellowed. I looked around as I hesitantly took the pilots seat on the glider, belting myself in and adjusting the leather cap I had on. 

He bellowed out, searching for a co-pilot, once more.

“Who Else!?”

“I'll go!” a voice in the crowd hollered. I turned, looking as the group of guys not towing ropes started to part ways. Out stepped Albrecht.

My heart fucking skipped a beat.

I watched as he quickly jogged towards me, catching the leather cap the Major tossed to him as he ran up besides me, pulling it on over his undercut styled haircut. He looked at me and smiled, strapping the helmet on and greeting me as he got into the seat behind me.

“So, you ever fly one of these before?” He questioned

“Uh” I hesitated “I did this last year, but besides that, not really...”

“Well, I'm confident you won't get us killed, if that helps” he joked. His hand gripped my shoulder and shook it in a sign of confidence. 

“Hold up a second, Commander.” the Major said, walking towards the glider. He looked at Albrecht and gave him a strange look, then questioned him; 

“Haven't you already been up today?” 

“Not with this unit, I haven't” he returned, a slick smile on his face. I tried to keep my nose out of the situation, but couldn't really help it.

“I didn't ask that” the Major continued to interrogate; “Did you go up yet today?”

I could see out of the corner of my eye that Albrecht had a big grin on his face.

“Well, I mean, technically?” 

“And you know you're only supposed to go up once, correct?”

“In all fairness Sir, I went up with another group, not this one.” 

“I-”

“And no one else volunteered, so I don't really see the problem.”

“Thats not-”

“Besides, you don't want only one person going up, do you? Wouldn't that destabalize the glider?”

“Well Yes, bu-”

“Perfect Major. I really appreciate your decision making”

Albrecht ran circles around him. It was actually pretty funny to listen to, and I couldn't help but smile; he already sounded like a politician. 

The Major glared at him, but sighed, waving him off. I watched as he stood back, examining the glider, and began to yell orders to me to test everything out before we took off.

“Right Aileron!” He hollered. There were three sticks, one to my left, one between my legs, and one to my right. I pulled the right one.

“Good.” he replied. “Left Aileron!” 

I pulled the left stick. He yelled 'Good' again.

“Elevate up!” He yelled. I pulled the middle stick forward, and listened for his yell. He confirmed with yet another 'good'. We spent the next few minutes going through safety inspections; it seemed strange at first that he was so worried about everything being right. He hadn't done this with the previous groups.

Then it dawned on me; my co-pilot was Albrecht, the Crown Prince. If something happened, the Major would be to blame.

He went through everything, including checking to make sure our safety harnesses were properly buckled in. Once he seemed confident enough, he waved us forward. I watched as a group of guys pulled the blocks out that held the sled under the glider in place, and the guys hauling the ropes started to run forward towards the edge of the hill.

It took them a bit to get the glider to move faster than a snails pace, but once they got it moving it really went. I held onto the elevation stick between my legs in a desperate attempt to keep myself from thinking I'd fall the hell off the damn thing, and listened to Albrecht complain right behind me.

“This thing fuckin bounces more than the damn robotic bull at the fuckin beerhouse we always go to” he hollered. I had no idea what he was talking about. 

I held the elevation controller as tightly as I could as the glider raced faster and faster across the hillside, rushing closer and closer to the edge. It wasn't until the guys towing the ropes all came to a halt, piling all over each other, that my heart started racing. It was too late for me to try and get off now, and as Albrecht and I steamrolled towards the cliff, I could feel myself getting a little woozy. 

Soon enough, we rocketed past the piles of guys whom had been towing us. As we reached the edge of the cliff, I closed my eyes, my heart beating faster than it did during the most tense boxing matches. I was waiting for the sound of the wings clipping trees, something breaking off the glider, or whatever sign of catastrophe there would be.

There was nothing but the sound of the wind. 

“Aright, now slowly pull us up” Albrecht instructed. I opened my eyes slowly, looking around.

We were actually flying.

My heart was still beating like I had just gone through a prize fight, but we were actually flying. I couldn't help but find myself distracted by the scenery around us. From this high, I could see the countryside for what seemed like tens of miles. The rolling hills, dense trees, and even birds and other animals were all on display. 

The air even smelled different up here.

“Hey!” Albrecht's voice yelled, followed by a light punch to my side “You've gotta get us up or we won't last long! Nose up!”

I slowly pulled the elevator control towards myself, and the glider started to climb slowly, though I could feel it slowing down.

“Alright, now level us off.....” he paused “Now!” 

I pushed the control forward, and the glider leveled out.

“There you go” he remarked, another pat to my side following suit. I smiled, watching the scenery around us fly by. We cruised for a long while in silence, before he broke the silence.

“So, you said you were from the Golderfeld?”

“Yeah” I responded. For whatever reason, I could feel my heart beating again.

“What'd you guys grow?”

“Wheat, though sometimes my dad grew other things along side it like corn and stuff, but usually wheat.” 

“That's awesome” he responded. 

His sudden interest in my life confused me. I mean, I knew he was just trying to make small talk, but it still made me sort of nervous.

“So how'd you get into boxing?” He questioned further. 

I was quiet for awhile, thinking about how I'd gotten to this point. Boxing had carried me through a lot of hard times when I was younger, and I considered it the one thing that I could actually take a real level of pride in. 

I had taken it up early on, mostly for self defense. The Youth often prided themselves on the way they 'built character' though promoting fighting and... I guess you could say violence, in the boys that participated in it. I learned really quickly that you had to defend yourself; no one else was going to fight for you when they had to fight for themselves already, and boxing provided that level of training that I needed.

I guess it sort of helped that being talented at something made my parents proud, at least for awhile. Coming home a winner from the fights against other local troops when I was young made my father beam with pride, and it often enough got me things that I otherwise wouldn't have been able to have. We were by no means a well off family; at times, you could even say we struggled to be stable in our finances, but when I won a game my dad made me feel like we were the richest family in the world.

“Hey, you hear me? How'd you get into boxing?”

“Shit, sorry, I was just thinking” I responded. I paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. 

“I just enjoyed it, I guess. A lot of fighting in The Youth made it really important to be able to defend myself.” 

“What do you mean, fighting in The Youth?”

“You guys didn't fight when you were in The Youth?” 

“I mean, we messed around and wrestled and stuff, but we didn't really fight”

“You didn't do, like, war games and stuff?”

“No...”

What? I thought every Youth troop did that...

“Well, we did a lot of war games where the winning team was decided by how many kids weren't lying on the ground in pain...”

“Jesus dude. Our troop went on trips throughout the country and even the rest of Europe....”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we even went to America around their independence day to see what it was like compared to V-Day here...”

“Sounds like a lot more fun than beating up other 12 year olds” I laughed.

He laughed as well, though I could tell it was hesitantly. 

We flew through the air quietly for awhile, passing close by another glider that was also mid-flight. I didn't wave to them, but Albrecht did.

After a little while, I tried to make small talk again.

“So... i'm sure you get this a lot, but... whats it like?”

“Whats what like?”

“Being the Crown Prince”

“Oh, that question” he seemed a bit disappointed. “Its... its interesting.”

I sort of regretted asking him that question the second it left my mouth. I'm sure he got it all the time, and me asking him didn't help. 

“Its a lot of work, especially when we're on holiday from the Academy. Lots of meetings I have to sit in with my Dad, riding though parades, meeting dignitaries, that sort of stuff.”

He was being groomed for the throne and didn't have a choice, I guess he was saying.

“You ever wish you weren't?”

He laughed.

“All the time” He responded shortly. 

It was quiet for awhile.

“But I guess it has its perks. I mean, I'm here, aren't I?”

“Yeah” I returned.

“So, whens boxing season start-”

Suddenly there was a huge crosswind that rocked our glider, and I struggled to maintain control of it. I could hear Albrecht cursing behind me as I yanked on the left and right ailerons, trying to maintain stability and even out the glider that was rocking back and forth. Just as I thought I had it under control again, another strong gust of wind rocked us back and forth. 

Suddenly, there was something pulling me close to the seat. I pulled as hard as I could on the controls to try and right the glider, and though it took some time, it evened out. It was then that I looked down at my waist to realize that Albrecht had wrapped his arms firmly around my waist. 

My heart fucking skipped a beat, and it was like everything suddenly started moving in slow motion. I could hear his breath close behind my head, and could practically feel his biceps despite being separated by our thick, woolen uniforms. He was holding firmly onto my sides in what I guess was a desperate attempt to hold onto something that was firmly in place. 

I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, but my brain was going haywire. It was one of those scenarios that you have when you've got a desperately deep crush on someone and literally anything they do is misconstrued as being a possible hint at romantic interest, and it took me a moment for me to calm my head down from asking the guy to fucking marry me then and there. 

“Sorry dude, I wasn't about to die though” he exclaimed, letting go of me. It was then that things started returning to a normal pace. 

“Just don't tell my girlfriend, alright?” he joked, laughing for awhile. 

My heart skipped a beat again. It took a lot of thinking about very unattractive lunch ladies for me to calm everything down. 

“Alright, your secret is my secret” I responded jokingly. 

You know that feeling you get when you just know that someone is looking at you? That's what I felt there. It didn't feel bad, in fact the opposite, but it was definitely there. 

“So, whens your next boxing match?” he questioned a few minutes later. 

“Uh, I think a few weeks from now?” 

“Awesome. Against whom?”

“Uh, not really sure yet. Usually this early on its another nearby academy.” 

“Well you'll have to let me know when it is so I can watch you” He remarked.

I froze. Him? Watching me box someone? That was the last thing I needed; it was already stressful enough, but having the fucking Crown Prince watching me would be a lot. Especially considering the beginning of the season was super important for placement purposes later down the line on the brackets.

Then again, I couldn't really say no to the fuckin' Crown Prince.

“I always loved watching your matches. You're scary fucking good, and that's on top of all of your good qualities”

Did he just...

I stammered for a minute, trying to remember his question. It was about watching me, right?

I couldn't remember, so I just winged it, hoping my response would be accurate.

“Alright, I'll let you know then” I remarked. 

He patted me on the side.

Jesus fuck dude, if you knew how fast my heart was beating right now...

We remained quiet for the rest of the flight, and eventually I started circling the glider and dropping its elevation. As we came in for the final landing, I could feel a hand grip that part between my shoulder blade and my neck, and Albrecht spoke up again.

“Thanks for the ride, it was a lot of fun”

I nodded, not really able to respond. This whole situation had been surreal. He had said maybe thirty words total and he'd left me fucking speechless, and I didn't know why.

Well, I knew why. I just didn't want to admit it.

We came in for a landing, and I held onto the controls tightly as the glider bounced up and down across the grass, sliding across the hill before slowing to a stop and tipping over onto its side. I slowly unbuckled myself, pulling the leather cap off of my head and jumping off of the seat. 

Albrecht was already gone and back with the guys.

I tossed the cap to the Major, and shoved my hands in my pockets. After a few moments, I resigned myself to returning back to the group, though my head was in a completely different place.

I think I felt his hands on my sides for another two days.

This schoolboy crush is really getting out of hand...


	11. Chapter 11

The next few weeks were tiring.

Midway through May a big contingent of guys from the academy were chosen to participate in the May-Day parade, which was yesterday. I was supposed to be part of it, but I was given an exemption due to some important upcoming boxing matches that I needed to train for, including one tomorrow, and preparing for the May-Day parades was a week-long affair. I did, however, at least get the chance to watch the parade when it zoomed past the academy, and waved at the guys I knew who participated in it, though Albrecht wasn't in the parade itself. He stood next to his father on a platform somewhere along the main route of the parade alongside foreign dignitaries, watching the parade floats drive by.

I spent most of my free time practicing for the upcoming boxing match I had, rarely spending any down-time at home for anything besides sleeping and doing classwork. Preparing for matches always took a lot of my free time up; Coach would pit me up against every single one of the other boxers to try and prepare me for whatever fighting style I would come up against. I never knew if the person I was going to fight would be. There were endurance fighters, tricksters, the annoying-as-hell duckers, and  dancers. At least that's how I referred to the last group. 

Dancers were the ones who danced around you as you tried to knock them out, hoping to catch you off-guard, catch you pissed off, or last long enough to tire you out. They were sort of like endurance fighters, but more annoying. They were usually the smaller guys.

In my experience, boxing was really the art of counter-punching. You waited for your opponent to send out a jab, and right as he committed and couldn't pull back, you launched a fist straight into his face. You had to take hits, but you would exchange them for much worse. The more you baited them, the more tired they would grow, and thus the opportunity for a knockout hit would grow larger and larger.

I remember my favorite knockouts the best. I'm a self-described endurance-trickster; I worked as hard as I could to tire my opponent out, then I gave them a glimmer of hope, pretending to make some sort of mistake. Sometimes, I'd pretend to be seriously hurt, other times I'd act as if I were about to pass out. The trick didn't matter unless they studied videos looking for signs of my tricks; what mattered was that, in the end, that it worked. And it always did.

As they launched what they presumed was a knock-out, I threw the hardest punch I possibly could. I've broken five noses, blown out entire sections of teeth, and given seven concussions, all through that strategy.

All of this practicing left with almost no time for myself, but from time to time I'd be ambushed in the showers by Siegfried and the other guys, forcing me to go out after practice to whatever place they wanted to hang out. Usually it was a bar or restaurant, though sometimes they just wanted to hang out in one of their rooms and play video games or go out into the fields and play a sport. 

Out of the blue a few weeks ago, I was offered a promotion to the rank of Unterfeldwebel, effectively the US's rank of Sergeant. It meant a few responsibilities that I wasn't used to having, like taking roll-call at morning athletics and during tips, but other than that it didn't mean much.

It did offer a pay raise, though. Initially I was going to send it all home, but the more frequently Siegfried and Albrecht dragged me out and into the city, the more I felt bad sitting there at a bar or restaurant just chatting while they drank and ate. I hated being the odd one out.

So for the first time in my life, I decided to keep a little bit of the money I made for myself. Soon after, I bought a cheap cell-phone; not a smart phone, but one of those cheap ones that flipped closed. I could use it for calls and limited texting, but that was it. 

At least I had something in case of emergency, I guess. And it was admittedly nice being able to talk to the guys without having to see them face-to-face.

The guys

In the past month, I had found myself going out more than I ever had in my life. Siegfried had dragged me into a group of guys that I didn't really fit in with, in the grand scheme of things. They were all sons of important figures and would grow up to some high-profile job serving their country. And here I sat the son of a farmer who only got into this school for his ability to fight in a one-on-one.

I had to admit, though; they tried their best to erase those concepts from my mind. Within a few weeks, it felt like I had known these guys for years. They talked about the most private things imaginable around me, and even about things that I probably didn't have security clearance for. Albrecht's father having secret meetings with the US President, Drew's aunt becoming Prime Minister, and more. All the while they seemed to figure out pretty fast that my family backstory probably wasn't the best thing to ask about; you could ask about basically anything else, but not my family and not Erik.

I guess, when you boil it down, they treated me like I was anyone else. And for the first time in awhile, I started waking up looking forward to the day. Spending all that time around Albrecht and the other... admittedly gorgeous guys, didn't help my trying to keep my cool, but I tried my best. 

I was pacing in place the night before the big match, trading jabs with Coach Edgar as Siegfried, Drew, Tjaden and Albrecht stood by watching. The room was dimly lit, designed as such to try and keep the audience dark so the fighters could focus on each other. The only things in the room that were brightly lit besides the ring were the flags of Alte-Koniggratz and the schools flag. 

Dotted around the walls were posters championing the Lions Guard Academy and other academies like it, statue-like guys holding the countries flag, marching forward to whatever victory was next, the slogan “Jugend kennt keine Gefahren” or “Youth knows no fear” in bold font across the poster. They hung slanted; the time-bleached brick walls didn't take kindly to whatever was used to attach them.

“His name is Josef. He's a big guy, so he's going to take awhile to wear down, but he isn't too smart. His coach knows that, so you'll need to keep on your toes; he's going to try and take you out quickly.” my coach said as we traded blows; Edgar had participated in the Olympics, and won us a Gold medal and two silvers. 

“But not only are you as strong as him, you've got the brains he hasn't. So you'll just do fine, just remember what we practiced?” 

I relaxed, taking a step back and putting my arms down. “Yeah, should be good”

I smirked; even Edgar had fallen for my tricks. In the time that i'd put my arms down, he'd gone in for the Jab, and by the time he realized what I'd done it was too late. He was halfway through his swing by the time I'd launched a glove straight into his stomach, and he took a few steps back, breaking away from his jab.

The guys hanging on the sides of the ropes laughed, watching Edgar hunched over catching his breath. I smiled.

“Jesus Christ kid” he remarked between short breaths.

“Come on coach, you literally said that I needed to remember what we practiced, and five seconds later you're getting tricked by someone half your age?”

He righted himself, smirking. I watched as he put his gloves up, and we went back to trading blows with each other. 

“Now, they've already arrived and are staying in the guest hall, so don't think you'll have the element of discomfort on your side. He isn't arriving tomorrow morning, he'll be well-rested.”

“Alright” I remarked mid bait “So you're saying we should make sure he isn't?”

He laughed, catching one of my jabs with his gloves.

“No no, you know better than that.” he scolded. “The last thing we need is them crying about foul play”

Drew spoke up, his arms danging over the ropes; “So whotcha sayin' is that someone uninvolved needs tah do sometin'?”

Coach Edgar didn't turn, knowing I'd probably knock him in the side of the jaw the second he did that, but returned Drew's statement with a firm “No, don't go stringing the guy up by his ankles. Its gotta be clean.”

“Aw comeon” Drew complained.

Albrecht shoved him by the shoulder and off of the ropes of the ring. I watched as Drew stumbled over, catching himself just as he was about to fall over. Edgar rolled his eyes and turned around to stare at the two fighting beneath us. “Drew, Albrecht...”

Albrecht.

He confused the hell out of me more and more as the days went by. As we spent more time together, I began to see that there were two distinctly different personalities in him. 

On the one side, there was the Albrecht in front of instructors and officers, as well as in public. He carried himself with that air of royalty that you expected someone in the royal family to have. He came off as knowing his place in the world today and his place in the future of this country, often giving people he didn't know the cold shoulder. We'd walked past a group of girls in their Military-Nurse uniforms who recognized him and asked for a picture and autographs. He ignored them and kept walking.

That strange, stoicism about him that arose when he was in public was intoxicating, and so was his strength. He always seemed.

He wasn't always like that, though, and there were times when he'd suddenly let his guard down and show me that side of him that he usually kept inside. He'd be open to earnest discussion, jokes, and even pictures. He'd discuss the great writers of our country, the great historians, stories from centuries gone past; it was all things I didn't understand, but he seemed so passionate about it, so much more than the sports he claimed he was forced to play to appease his father. The side that would stand and watch me practice boxing with Coach Edgar for hours, or sit with Siegfried, Drew and I while we did coursework he'd finished days before. I think the more time I spent around that side of him, the more I fell for him. 

The real him. Not the plucked-and-groomed version. The Albrecht combing his hair eight times in the bathroom before he went out for an academy photo shoot. The Albrecht who'd sit in his undershirt and shorts like all of the rest of us as we screamed at the tournament on the TV. 

'Fuck, I need to get over this crush...' I thought to myself.

I don't know if it was just me, but we seemed to be spending time together more frequently in the past few months. At first, it was terrifying; I had this absurd schoolboy crush on him that I knew would never turn into anything, and it kept me from getting to know him when. In retrospect, that really hurt the first few weeks of our friendship, because now that we've known each other closely for a few months it was clear that he was trying to get to know me on purpose. 

There were even times when he'd actively seek me out, which was a challenge in and of itself considering I didn't have a phone and if you wanted to find me, you actually had to go looking. 

“Quit with the bullshit” Coach said sternly, interrupting my daydream. I watched as he glared at the guys watching ringside, but he was quickly returned with a group-wide boo. He sighed, turning back to me. Just as he turned, I knocked him in the side. 

“You son of a bitch” he bellowed out, holding his side. I smiled, and soon enough we were back to practicing. I'm not sure what time we ended, but it was pretty late. In all honesty, I think we only ended because Coach Edgar was tired of being hit. 

Once he called it quits, I rushed out of the ring and to the showers, trying to get home and to sleep as fast as I could. I raced through my shower and was half-way though dressing when something, rather someone, shoved my shoulder.

I turned surprised, yelling “Hey, the fuck?”

“You couldn't take any longer to shower, could you? I've been waiting for like 20 minutes” the voice behind me remarked. I looked; Albrecht.

“Waiting for what?” I questioned

“I mean, you're just standing around takin' your damn time!”

“Why are you even waiting for me?” 

“Because you're the best boxer in the whole school and Siegfried and I aren't about to let you get your ass beat the night before the fight” 

I gave him a confused look. The fuck was he talking about? 

“What?” I questioned

“I'm not about to let you get hurt before the match tomorrow.” 

“I'll be fine dude” 

“I'm sure, but I'm not taking any chances.”

“Dude, you can go”

“Nah” he waved me off, sitting down on one of the benches between the lockers.

“I mean, if you insist, but I'll be a bit.”

“That's fine.” He sat quietly, waiting for me to get dressed, but broke his silence a few minutes later;

“So, when are you going to spend some of your promotion money on your clothes?” he questioned, pointing at my shirt. 

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like I see you wear the same four shirts when you're not in uniform.” 

I shrugged. 

“I mean, I'm not really in casual clothing more than two days a week, whats the point?”

“What do you do when you're on holiday?”

“I... don't really go on holiday... my parents, you know? I just wear my uniforms around the academy”

“Oh...” he said quietly. “Sorry I brought it up...”

“Its fine” I waved him off.

We chatted while I got dressed about little things. I tried to inquire about what the May-Day parade was like, but he just seemed bored with it all. 

“Things that seem exciting get pretty boring when you have no choice but to be there” he muttered.

I tried to cheer him up by making a joke;

“Well, I mean with all those girls in the crowds staring you, you must feel better knowing you can get it whenever you want?”

He smiled. It wasn't one of those manufactured smiles for the cameras; it was gentle and long, and it lasted through our conversation

“I mean, you know what they say about per-marital sex” he remarked

“And the ones who say it are the ones who couldn't get any when they were young because they were ugly as shit.”

“So what, you think they were trying to force others to go what they went though?”

“Probably” I said as I pulled on my pants. 

“I mean, you probably wouldn't have any problems getting some either if you weren't so shy and reserved” he remarked. My face went flush, and I let out a small smile.

“Eh, there aren't my...” I paused

“Your what?”

“My kind...”

“Your kind?”

“My kind here, you know?”

We were quiet for awhile. 

“What do you mean 'your kind'?” he questioned, confused.

“You know... guys..”

“Guys?”

“That... like other guys.”

“Oh”

He seemed to understand now.

“Yeah...”

“I'm not so sure of that.”

I looked up at him earnestly.

“You'd be surprised” he insisted.

“Oh?”

“You're just not looking hard enough. That, or you're ignoring the signs.”

“I don't know about that.”

“Get to know people, I'm sure there are guys like you looking for someone as good-looking as you.”

My ears were ablaze.

“I mean, come on, look at you. Talented boxer, six... what, six two? Blond, built as fuck, and humble. You'd make a great husband for any woman, I know that much”

I smiled. 

“I don't really know too much about, you know, but I'm sure you'd make a great husband for any guy whose looking, too.” 

“Thanks” I muttered, running my hand across the back of my neck. I stuttered trying to get another sentence out, and gave up.

After a bit, he questioned me.

“What were you gonna say?”

I sat down on the bench next to him and pulled my black socks on.

“I... just don't think I'm ready, is all. After everything...”

He put his arm around me, and looked at me earnestly, quietly saying “Take your time, but when you are, let me know.”

I blinked a few times, looking up at him.

“Huh?”

My heart started to beat heavily; Did he... just say what I think he just said?

“What?” he questioned

“What did you say?” 

“I said 'Take your time, I'm sure someone will let you know and you'll decide if you're ready then'.”

“Oh...” I practically whispered. “Yeah, I'm sure...”

That... I could have sworn that wasn't what he said.

What did he say again?

My mind kept trying to go over exactly what he said, but the memory was different every time. I looked down and pulled my shoes on, quiet for awhile.

“Sometimes I just wish I could be like you” he remarked.

“What, gay?” I joked

He laughed like he hadn't in awhile, and I smiled. He looked so at peace like that.

“No, I wish I wasn't... who I was, you know?”

“The prince”

“Yeah...”

“How come?”

“All of the cameras, all of the events, all of the pressure... Sometimes I wish I could just let loose and go anywhere I wanted without having to deal with people in SUVs following me around and people asking for my picture.”

I nodded.

“I wish I could just chill with a friend that happens to be a girl and the fuckin' papers wouldn't go crazy trying to figure out if I was shagging her.”

I laughed, but he seemed serious. I wiped the smile off my face, apologizing.

“Its fine” he remarked. 

We were quiet for awhile.

“I just... want to know what its like to be normal, you know?”

I nodded.

“To be able to do the things I really want to do without having to worry...”

I noticed his fist was clenched. 

“Don't you get a vacation at least?” I questioned.

“I mean, yeah, but the only place I can go is our retreat up in the mountains. I wish I could just lay on the beach with a couple friends without being barraged.”

I nodded.

“And every time a picture of me with a friend ends in the paper, its like all of a sudden the whole worlds eyes come down on them, people start investigating their shit...”

I blinked. 

“Like... I'm sure if they saw you and I together they'd dig until they found...”

He fell silent. I nodded, grabbing him by the knee and shaking it. 

“Its fine” I remarked “I know what you were going to say”

He sighed, looking straight into my eyes like he was looking for something. I looked back for a moment, but his glare was almost too much. His blue eyes seemed bigger than I remembered. After a moment, he looked back down at the ground.

“I hate seeing my friends hurt. Especially when I should have the power to protect them.”

We sat there in silence for awhile.

“Come on, lets go. I'm sure Siggi thinks we're dead” he said, standing up abruptly. 

My hand fell off his knee, and I rose up slowly, following him out of the locker-room and through the dimly lit gymnasium. I watched as he kicked a basketball in front of him like a rock or can, his hands deep in his pocket. He came to the other side of the gym and pushed the door open, the light of a lantern atop a pole outside the door illuminating the rest of my path to the doorway. 

I stepped out and found Albrecht and Siegfried standing there chatting. As I reached them, they started walking.

It was quiet for awhile, before Siegfried spoke up.

“I'm pumped, its gonna be a great match”.

“I'm just hoping the others do well besides me.” I remarked quietly. I was always worried about how the others would do. My wins didn't matter if everyone else lost.

“Oh come on, no one beats a guardsman” Albrecht remarked confidently.

It wasn't true, but it sort of helped me feel better. Lots of Guardsmen got beaten in their sports. No one was undefeated. Even I lost a match last year; it was right in the middle of Erik's trial, and I wasn't thinking clearly. I hadn't gotten to practice as much as I needed to. And I got the shit beaten out of me.

They walked me across the campus and up the stairs of my building, stopping at the door to my room. I waved them goodbye, and watched as they walked down the hallway and disappeared down the stairs. As I shut my door, I could have sworn I heard someone mutter something under their breath outside my door. It sounded like Albrecht's voice. 

I opened the door again, looking around for a sign of anyone, but there was no one. 

I shrugged it off, not thinking anything of it as I slipped into bed. I was still too occupied trying to re-create exactly what he said. 


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning, I was up early for no apparent reason. As I walked towards the showers, I discovered how strangely cool it was for a May day like this.

I was showered, dressed, and carrying my bag with my boxing clothes to the gymnasium as I watched the guy who blew the reveille horn walk out of his dorm room with the horn under his arm. I waved, and he waved back. 

In the past two months, things had gotten a lot better. I hadn't been ambushed by Erik's friends, hadn't eaten lunch alone, and hadn't really worried about much. My depression was still lingering, that was true, but it wasn't as bad; only on random nights when I couldn't fall asleep and would sit up in bed and worry. 

It was when people started to smile at me in the hallway when we made eye-contact that I realized things were alright for the first time since last year. 

I was changed and already training on one of the hanging bags by seven; our match was at one. Our coach arrived at about seven thirty, and I don't think anyone else really arrived until at least eight. 

I spent all morning practicing, doing the same moves over and over again. It was at about eleven that I watched the guys from the other school come through the door and walk along the outskirts of the gymnasium, into the seldom-used guest locker room. It was usually reserved for girls and female guests who came to watch our big events.

A couple of the guys had already arrived, including Siegfried, Chris and Albrecht. They watched closely as I practiced on the side of the Gym. I only caught glimpses of them between our exercises, but it was like they were mesmerized. 

I had practiced as much as I could, to the point of plateauing. I knew all of Edgar's moves and how to combat them, but I was still nervous for the match. Practice can only go so far, and once you're on the ring you have to stand on your own. Your coach can only help as loud as he can yell, and even then its your decision that matters, not his.

You're the fighter in the ring. You know your opponent better than they do.

I held my gloves out for my coach to untie them, and slipped under the ropes of the practice area a few moments later, heading for the locker-room. 

I'd still been thinking of what happened with Albrecht the night before in the locker-room, and needed to run some water over my head to try and get it out. Sure, things were starting to get better. Sure, I had people I could turn to for once, but my head still wasn't getting over the bad things that always seemed to happen. I felt like I was biding my time until something caught up with me. 

It was as I was rubbing my face with the cool tap water that I heard someone screaming at the top of their lungs, seemingly in considerable pain. I shut the tap off and rubbed my face with one of the hand cloths before walking past the long rows of metal lockers, looking down each aisle to try and find what was going on.

It didn't take long to find; towards the end of the locker-room stood a group of guys relentlessly torturing Torbend, the young 16 year old whom I had been training for the past few months. 

I watched for a moment; they were relentlessly slapping him around, shoving him to and fro as one of the taller ones held him off the ground by his compression shorts. He was screaming for them to stop, and I was pretty sure I could see tears running down his face. It didn't take long for the memories of having the shit beaten out of me to flood back, forcing my hand.

“Oh come on now you pussy, whats wrong, can't defend yourself?” 

“Let me fucking go!” he screamed. 

“Nah, I don't think so. I think we'll hang you up on one of those polls in front of your fancy-ass school, that might teach you a lesson...”

I could feel my blood pressure boiling, my temper fading out of my control more and more. Seeing someone getting beaten for doing nothing pissed me the fuck off, especially when they were up against a group that they had no hope of defending themselves against. And seriously, lifting him up by his shorts? What was this, middle school?

“I didn't do any-”

Before Torbend could finish, there was a sharp punch to his stomach by one of the guys. That was when I stepped in. 

I don't know what happened, but I exploded. It was like my patience fucking disappeared and my temper exploded all at once, and I couldn't control myself after that.

I slammed my fist into the metal locker door next to me, and started walking towards them, borderline yelling;

“Now, what gives me the privilege of meeting you four here?”

All five of them, including Torbend, seemed to jump in surprise. They all turned to me, three of their faces going white. The only one who looked less than terrified was the slightly taller one, still driving Torbend's shorts up his ass.

There was quiet for a moment, and I ended it by slamming the side of my fist against the locker again.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Fuck off and mind your own business” the taller one responded.

“You my teammate off the ground by his pants is my business, especially when you're fucking guests here” I yelled, maintaining eye contact with the kid. His confidence was starting to wane.

“Now, let him fucking go.”

“No, I told you to fuck off” he stammered

I started to walk towards him, and he quickly turned to his friends and tried to get them to go after me

“Guys, get him the fuck out of here”

One of the other three looked between the two hesitantly before looking at me. He walked forward, seemingly scared, and tried to rationalize with me to leave.

“Come on dude, just go...”

I lurched forward and grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and threw him behind me. I didn't even bother to stop and turn around as I stared at the other two whom had been walking towards me hesitantly; they were frozen in place staring at their friend on the ground.

“Fuck... my nose...” the voice behind me quivered.

“Friedrich, I'll be alright, just go” Torbend said. I looked over at him for a moment, watching as he winced in pain as the guy holding onto his shorts tugged up again to try and shut him up.

“Wait, Friedrich? You mean you're the cocksucker that our friend Justus told us about?” he smiled.

I could feel my blood pressure rising.

“Thats right. I'm the cocksucker he told you about. And you'll learn a lot about cocksucking in a minute if you don't let him go” I demanded, pushing the two pale-faced guys away as I stepped towards the tall one.

He jumped, dropping Torbend to the ground as he started to back away, stammering for his friends help.

“Joachim, Franco, what the fuck guys? Come on, help me!”

I looked to the side; though they had helped their friend up, neither of the three were moving forward. 

I turned back just as he was trying to slide past me, and grabbed him by the collar of his wife-beater, slamming him up against the locker. He hissed in pain and tried to fight me off, but the more he squirmed the harder I clenched onto him. 

“Fuck dude, let me go for fucks sake!”

“I told you you'd learn something about cocksucking if you didn't leave him alone”

“Dude, you're not-”

I slammed the back of his head into the metal locker, and he yelped out in pain.

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” I ordered. He stared at me weakly, almost begging to be let go.

I don't know what came over me, but before I knew it I was holding him a foot off the ground by his underwear. He was screaming out in pain as I hiked him up higher and higher, begging me to let him go.

“I didn't mean it, I'm sorry I called you a cocksucker” he said between weeps.

I yanked harder than I ever had.

“You think its funny to do this kind of shit to people who can't defend themselves? How do you feel now?” I whispered into his ear.

“It fuckin hurts” he said, trying to hold onto the back of his own shorts to ease the pain.

“Thats right it fucking hurts. Now you know how he feels.” 

I yanked again, this time even harder. 

“What was your idea again? Hanging someone up on the gates of the school?”

“Please” he yelped out “Please, no, I swear I was just trying to fuck with him.”

Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder; I turned, coming face-to-face with Torbend. He looked worried. 

“What?” I questioned

“Just let him go” He said. His voice was shaking, and he seemed in pain.

“I-”

“You've already saved my ass, you don't need to wreck his.”

I dropped him to the ground, sighing. I stood there and rubbed the palm of my hand with my thumb as I watched him crawl away, his shorts still half-way up his back. I looked at Torbend worriedly, questioning him;

“How are you feeling?”

“I mean... I just had my pants shoved so far up my ass I could taste the words 'Under Armor', but besides that...”

I laughed, patting him on the back.

“I guess it wasn't as bad as what you were doing to that guy” he joked. 

“Come on, lets get out of here” I insisted, ushering him out. As we walked through the doors of the locker room and back out into the gymnasium, I found myself slipping my hands in my pockets. 

What the fuck came over me?

I kept trying to figure it out for the remainder of the time before our match. Mid baiting my coach I would suddenly be overcome with memories of the times I'd been ambushed, and could feel the kicks against my ribs and hear the comments they'd made like I was re-living the situation over and over again.

It was at about twelve thirty that someone from the other school stepped up to the practice ring I was in and watched me. It didn't take long for Coach Edgar to notice and drop his gloves, looking at the kid sternly and questioning him.

“Do you need something?”

“Oh, no, just scouting out my opponent. I hear he's pretty good.”

“So you're Josef?” I questioned, looking him up and down.

He was about Five nine, relatively built, with short-cut black hair. He talked with a slight lisp, pausing between his sentences for what seemed like an unnaturally long time.

“Mhm.”

I extended my glove out for him to bump back. He just stared at it.

“So, I hear you like going after kids smaller than you.”

I stared at him. Coach Edgar looked between us confused, but didn't say anything.

“I said, I hear you like going after kids smaller than you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh nothing, just a kid coming back to our ring pretty fucked up.”

Edgar looked at me.

“You know, I heard the same about one of our guys getting roughed up by some visitors too.” I said coldly, looking him up and down.

He stared at me with a face of stone.

“I'm sure, I'm sure” 

“Shit happens sometimes.”

“Yeah, I've heard. I bet you'd know a lot about getting beaten up.”

“Oh? I'm pretty sure I'm undefeated this season.”

“I mean in other ways.”

“Such as?”

“A little birdie told you that you might be in this fight for more reasons than honor.”

“Such as?”

“I mean, far be it for me to tell you what you can and can't be turned onto”

I stepped forward angrily. 

“What are you implying?”

“Oh, nothing. Just try not to grab my crotch while we're fighting. I don't want to have to humiliate you in multiple ways tonight.”

I went to talk back, but he started to turn and walk away, speaking up once more. 

“Oh, and my cousin Erik says 'Hey'. He's excited to see you again someday. Says he has unfinished business.”

I gripped the ropes of the practice ring angrily, glaring at the back of his head.

“So long as you don't die of aids before he gets out” he yelled.

I started to slip under the ropes, but Edgar caught me by the back of my shirt, pulling me back into the ring.

“Don't fucking waste your time. You can beat your problems with him out in the ring” he insisted. “He's just trying to psych you out, you know that.”

I sighed, watching him disappear into the crowd that was forming around the ring. A few fights had already gone on, mostly the lower weight classes and younger kids whom weren't going to take as much time as the classes like mine. I didn't even watch anyone's fights. I just practiced, practiced, practiced.

Then, the time for the fight came. I sat in the locker-room getting prepped for the fight by my Coach as I watched the clock tick closer and closer to fight time. 

“Just remember who you are” he said, tapping my cheek lightly

I smiled, questioning him;

“Who am I again?”

“A god damned great boxer on his way to Olympic Gold” 

Off in the distance, I could hear a bell ringing violently, and I watched as Coach ushered me up. He smiled, continuing to talk me up as he firmly tied my gloves on. My heart rate was off the wall before I even walked out of the locker room, and by the time I was sat on the wooden stool in the corner of the room I could practically feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Sitting in the opposing corner was Josef. Contrary to the way I felt, he seemed calm, cool, and collected. He was chatting with someone standing ringside, smiling and laughing, seemingly not taking the impending match seriously. 

I idled on him for awhile, rummaging through thoughts and possibilities in effort to try and figure out what his niche was. 

Then, as the ref swung under the ropes and walked to the middle of the ring, it dawned on me; he was playing the same game a lot of others played against me. He wanted to come off smooth and confident, like he was the best boxer in the country and I was just some young first-timer he needed to get rid of on his way up the bracket. 

As the ref ushered us to stand up and tap gloves, I watched him carefully. Every little tick about him set off warning flags to me in one way or another; he had a huge, cocky smile on his face, he was still chatting with people ringside as we stood in the middle of the ring, and more.

As the ref had us tap gloves, he smirked, looking straight into my eyes. 

Trying to assert dominance? Really kid? I'm not 10, and I'm not scared of looking you in the eyes.

I stared straight back, trying not to change my facial expression. I wanted to come off as reserved, perhaps even uncomfortable. To fake his fake out, I needed to make him think what he was doing was working.

The ref ordered us back to our corners and come out fighting at the sound of the bell.

When the bell rang, we both went at it.

Within a few moments, we were within arms reach of each-other. I took the endurance-fighting style at first; I needed to see what kind of fighter he would end up being. Throw a few baits out, see how he responded, then knock him in the face a few times to piss him off.

My feet carried me around the ring a few times, occasionally trading shots with him, though none ever came into contact with either of us. He wasn't an idiot, that was for sure, and he knew how to block. As I went to bait him, he spoke up through his mouth guard.

“Don't worry Friedrich, I'll only treat you as rough as your baby Erik did”

Anger washed over me, and I sent an ill-prepared swing out. He blocked it, and sent a jab straight into my ribs. I backed up, using one glove to block any further shots while I held my side with the other one.

“Fuck” I thought to myself “All he's doing is trying to piss you off. Don't fucking listen to his bullshit.”

I re-positioned myself and traded shots with him for another few seconds before the round's bell rung and we returned to our positions. The ref waved to Josef's side; he won the round. The half of the audience on his side roared in applause. My side, which seemed infinitely more deep, simply booed. 

“Come on Friedrich, don't let him get to you” my coach said into my ear as he poured water into my mouth. 

“I know, I know” I responded, moving my head as he wiped the sweat from my brow. I looked through the crowd trying to find someone I recognized, but couldn't. 

Where were the guys?

The ref waved, and we both rose back up, getting into position before the bell rang and the next round began. 

Remember; he's trying to bullshit you, so bullshit him back. Just fucking tire him out and then let him win a round or two here and there, then knock him on his fucking ass and beat him until he can't wake up anymore

I spent the next few rounds trying to keep my stamina up, seemingly running around the ring as Josef chased me, trying to send jab after jab at me. The few times he actually got close enough, I blocked his shots, except for a shot here and there that I purposely let him slide in. I needed to fake him out, otherwise this was going to be a lot longer than it needed to be.

It was during the time between Round 4 and Round 5 that my coach started getting worried. 

“I trust whatever you're doing Friedrich, but you're scaring me” Edgar remarked. I just smiled back, watching Josef on the other side. 

He was already celebrating like he had won, but he looked tired. I'd been running around with him for the past twenty minutes, and I'd only sent out one jab for every six of his. He'd already presented a decent amount of his tricks, and I had just finished setting up my long-game. Now was the time to really convince him. I was trying my best to look as tired as I possibly could, and continually running around seemed to help. 

The ref waved and I got into position, staring at Josef across from me. His chest was puffed out, he stood rocking side-to-side in a confidence filled manner, and he had this disgustingly hideous shit-eating grin on his face. 

Man, I was really building his confidence up. Shame if something were to happen to it...

The bell rang, and we were back at it again. I kept my long-game going, dancing around him smoothly every step of the way through the round. He send jab after jab towards me, but I kept ducking and dodging out of the way, waiting for the perfect opportunity for him to get a good shot on me so I could look like I was really hurting. I'd even be willing to fall to the ground on purpose and lose one of my points in order to really fuck with him.

We were within 30 seconds of ending the round when I saw my opportunity. He was breathing heavily and sweating profusely, trying to keep up with me. That annoying confidence had slipped from his eye and he was starting to lose it.

That's when I opened myself up for the strike. I sent a strike that was poorly aimed, and he smiled mid-way through my swing, sending a glove launching towards my fist. It hit me square in the mouth and I let my balance go, falling to the ground.

There was a huge cry of cheer from his side of the ring as I collapsed to the ground and my head hit the floor. From where I lay, I could see Siegfried, Albrecht, and the other guys had pushed their way up to ringside and were all collectively shocked that I'd just been knocked down. 

The bell rang and the ref threw the points to Josef, who seemed to be cheering for himself.

It wasn't until I started to stand up and winked right at Siegfried that it seemed to dawn on him what I was doing. His face changed from one of confusion and worry to that face someone has when something suddenly dawns on them that they've been missing for awhile, and I watched as he quickly started talking to the other guys. I retreated to my wooden stool and let my coach wipe the blood from my lower lip as he tried to contain his panic attack

“Friedrich, whats going on?” he stammered.

“I know what I'm doing, Coach, just let me do it.”

He was quiet for awhile, but as the ref waved us in, he said “Alright, fine, just don't fall over again!”

Josef came into the ring and had this devilish grin on his face; the confidence seemed to be realistic this time, he wasn't puffing his chest out and wasn't fucking around and chatting with others. He seemed to actually be convinced he was on the up and I was just a round or two away from being knocked out.

The bell rang, and we were at it again. I watched and waited, letting him send a few jabs in and sending a few out, waiting for him to fall for my bait again. He showed all of the signs of a fighter that had used all of his stamina following me around the ring. 

Coach was right, he probably was stupid. 

Then, the opportunity opened itself. He threw a swing and I was able to dart out of the way, and while his arm was still mid-air I switched personalities. 

Before he was able to react, I had a fist in the air screaming towards his face. I threw it with all of my strength and before he knew it, I could practically feel my fist hit his face through the glove, and I watched as he practically spun in a circle before landing on the ground back-first. 

I stepped closer to him and stood over him, smiling as the blood continued to drip off of my lower lip and onto his white wife beater with his school's insignia in the middle of it. I let a wide smile break across my face as the ref slammed his hand against the ground counting down. Josef was able to right himself just as the Ref was about to finish his countdown.

The next thirty seconds went pretty quickly, and I built the fight up for yet another knock-down. He kept sending tired, poorly aimed jabs at me, and though from time to time I'd purposely let him hit me, he got nothing strong enough to do any serious damage out on me. 

I was fucking moving around him like lighting, continually sending jabs against his sides and back to piss him off as he tried to keep up with me. I hadn't wasted my stamina in the first eight rounds and now that he was tired out, I could afford to use some to try and open him up to more knockdown blows again. 

Before I could set him up for a good knockout, the ref blew his whistle and we both returned to our wooden stools. Edgar smiled, patting me on the shoulder as he squeezed water into my mouth from the bottle.

Across the ring, Josef's coach seemed to be screaming at him. I felt some patting my leg and looked down at the side to find Siegfried. He was trying to say something but over all of the noise in the ring, I couldn't hear him.

The ref ushered us up, and I rose. Josef looked fucking pissed, but I kept to my reserved look.

Acting scared and tired wouldn't work now. I had to be super aggressive and knock him out as fast as possible before he got the chance to catch his breath.

The bell rang and the ref backed out; I tried my best to dance around him for the first minute of the match again, but it wasn't working as well as it had before. He'd started to catch on, so I moved closer and traded jabs with him, trying to bait him into making a mistake so I could send something into his ribs and give him a good punching before I knocked him out in the next few rounds.

We traded blows a few more times before he made a swing that opened up a perfect counter-jab from me. I was mid-swing towards his ribs when I was surprised by a blow straight into my crotch.

I hunched over, the crowd yelling “boos” as the ref jumped forward yelling fowl towards Josef. 

He tried to defend himself, claiming he didn't just hit me in the crotch, but me being hunched over and stooping back to my stool gave it away. 

All I really heard from that conversation was the referee screaming “One more like that and your ass is out, got it boy?”

The ref gave an extra minute between the rounds and deducted a few of Josef's points for that foul, but as I looked across the ring he had that shit-eating grin on his face, and it fucking pissed me off.

I rose before the ref waved us in, and by the time the bell rang my adrenaline was racing faster than it had in a long, long time. 

I moved quickly around him, trading jab for jab, bait for bait. Half-way through the round, he started to give way in his quality, and the opportunity presented itself for another jab. I was mid-way through swing when he caught me by surprise and landed a glove right against my stomach, knocking me over.

“Fuck” I thought to myself “How the fuck is he faking me out?”

I rose up a few moments later, steadying my pace. I needed to actually fuck with this guy to get him to open himself up enough for me to land a knockout blow. We moved around the ring for another few trades before he landed a glove square into the side of my ribs again. It didn't take the wind out of me, but it dawned upon me that I should act like it did.

As I stood there against the ropes hunched over, he moved in, and mid-swing I ducked under his arm. I could see the realization on his face that he'd made a mistake as I sent a swing straight into his stomach and upward at the last minute, my fist practically piercing through the hard leather glove and into his stomach itself. 

He hunched over against the ropes, and I started to wail on him. I sent hit after hit against every part of his body above his waistline, from his stomach to his ribs, his chest to his face. All he could do was hold his gloves up and try to prevent me from breaking his nose.

The ref got between he and I and gave him a moment to stabilize himself, but he didn't look good. There was blood pouring from his nose and his lower lip, seemingly going all over the place. He was breathing heavily and as the bell rang once more, I launched myself forward. I needed to knock him out now before he could take a break.

I gave him the opportunity to trade a few blows with me to see how much strength he had left. 

It wasn't much.

Before I knew it, there wasn't much time left on the clock, and I decided to go full force. I pressed myself forward and sent jab after jab into him, and though he was able to stop the first few from hitting, he couldn't keep up. He was walking backwards trying to get away from me as I wailed on his head, sweat pouring from my head and down across my body as I sent glove after glove against his body. 

He wasn't defending anything else but his face, and I saw the opportunity to knock the wind right out of him. I smiled at him, maintaining eye contact as I launched a fist straight into his lower abdomen once again, knocking him into the ropes of the ring. He started to slouch down, and I could see Siegfried and Albrecht standing rightside right behind him. They were fucking screaming.

It was then that I realized the entire audience was screaming, including some of the guys on Josef's side. I looked around; the ref was watching carefully, but wasn't moving forward to try and separate us yet. Coach Edgar was screaming and practically jumping up and down trying to get me to take a final swing.

I looked down at Josef and watched the blood pooling from all sorts of different places across his face, his left eye already starting to swell shut. I sort of felt bad, and was tempted to back away and give him the chance to fight another round or throw in the towel.

That is, I would have, had a familiar voice not screamed so loud through the audience that they caught my attention.

I looked down and past Josef, who was slowly slipping down the ropes, to see Siegfried and Albrecht fucking screaming at the top of their lungs.

“Come on Friedrich!” 

“Knock him the FUCK OUT!” Siegfried screamed. His face seemed so fucking joyful that it was intoxicating. I just couldn't let him down, could I? 

Albrecht stood by, seemingly out of it, though he gave me a smile and nodded. I mean, he was the Crown Prince after all... Its my duty to make him happy, isn't it?

I smiled at the two, then looked back at Josef. He was struggling to get back up on his feet and was using his gloves to brace himself up. 

“Who's being treated rough now, Josef?” I practically screamed at him. He didn't look up at me.

I practically wound my glove up before launching it into his face. It didn't really feel like I had put any effort into it at all, almost like my glove was being guided by an outside force. 

I must have put a lot of strength into it, though, because I watched as he was practically launched off of the ropes and his head slammed into the ground, his mouth-guard falling out of his mouth and white specks landing around it. 

The crowd went fucking wild, and I watched as the ref slammed his hand into the mat next to Josef. He wasn't moving.

Before the ref could finish, Josef's coach threw the towel into the ring. The ref grabbed my wrist and threw it in the air as Josef' coach ran into the ring to pull him out and take him away.

I watched as a bunch of guys rushed onto the ring and surrounded me, my coach wrapping his arm around my side and holding my arm up in the air again like the ref did. Before I knew it, Albrecht was standing in front of me with a bottle of whiskey, practically funneling the shit down my throat. I took a few gulps before pushing the bottle off, getting somewhat doused in the stuff, and handing it back to Albrecht. 

I don't really remember what else happened that night, outside of the fact that I slept like a fuckin' baby. 


	13. Chapter 13

A few days after the boxing match, we had our re-scheduled munitions test. 

After that boxing match against Josef, it didn't really seem like anything to compare to. I had practiced with a few dummy grenades in the rifle grounds and I was relatively confident in my ability; besides, I really just wanted to get the shit over with and get back home to finish a project that I'd been assigned on some current problems that were being faced by miners out in the Hinterland and how my leadership could be used to better their cause.

I sat on the bus that morning talking with Siegfried. We were lucky enough to not have to deal with protesters; it wasn't like they had stopped, but I guess they just didn't show up that early in the morning. We had been woken from bed around four and were on the buses and heading through the city by five.

The Capitol was a different beast during the morning, especially before everyone was awake. The sun still hadn't risen and the only light that existed were the lights from the skyscrapers, monuments and street poles. It wasn't exactly that pitch-black darkness you get on a new moon in the middle of the winter, but it still dark.

Seeing the normally crowded streets so deserted was strange; the only people who were out seemed to be shopkeepers and restaurateurs getting ready for the morning rushes. I watched as city workers and garbage collectors went around their business, 'their day' seemingly coming to a close as everyone else's day just began.

I remember that morning being unnervingly cold for May. I don't know why I payed attention to it in the beginning, but maybe it was a sign of what was to come.

We arrived at the Army base around seven in the morning, and it looked like even they had just risen from their slumber. I stepped off of the bus and stood there with Siegfried, watching the troops exercising across the yard as we shuffled around in groups waiting for someone to give us orders. About five minutes later, Siegfried seemed to rush forward to order all of us to get into proper formation. 

I wasn't sure how he knew someone important was about to arrive, but he always seemed to know. I got into formation with the rest of the guys and watched as the officer, apparently a captain with combat service in the middle east, gave us a short inspection before ordering us forward and across the base to begin our training.

It took about fifteen minutes of jogging across the base to arrive to the large series of trenches that were dug into the ground and lined with wooden planks. We wandered through them, seemingly aimlessly, for a few minutes before arriving at a large dugout. On one side of the wall was nailed a warning about live ammunition being up and over the side of the trench. Under the box sat a large metal box clipped shut. 

“Least we're finally getting this over with. I'm excited to not have to worry about it anymore.” Siegfried said as he stood next to me. I jumped with surprise, not thinking he was so close to me.

“Come on now, nervous?” he laughed, play-punching me on the shoulder. I smirked, waving him off. 

“Now Gentlemen” the Captain bellowed, “Today you'll be handling live ammunition.” 

He continued to speak as he opened the large metal box, revealing two long rows of grenades sitting side to side in shredded paper. 

“I cannot begin to impress upon you the real dangers of these, but I know you all already know what they can do to people.”

Our crowd remained silent.

“Now while I understand you all have had more than enough time to prepare for this, I'll be taking the liberty of showing you one last time before your exam the proper method of using this. Now pay fucking attention” he yelled. 

The group crowded around him in a circle as he pulled one of the grenades from the box and held it up in the air for all of us to see. It wasn't one of those grenades you were used to seeing in videogames or on television, shaped like a large egg or piece of fruit. It was one of those old-shaped ones, with the long wooden handle that you had to chuck as hard as possible to get away from you. It sort of looked like a hammer. 

I watched as he unscrewed the bottom and a short white cloth-looking thing fell out and hung below it. 

“You grab this, pull it out, then fucking chuck the thing” the Captain yelled.

We all watched as he yanked the white piece of cloth out of the bottom and raised his arm, throwing the grenade as hard as he physically could. It flew out of the trench and landed far away as we all held our ears, some of the guys squatting. I could just barely see over the sandbags on the top of the trench, and I watched for the flash.

There was dead silence for a moment, before the loud bang and concussion swept over the trench we were in. We all rose back up as the Captain turned to us with a clipboard in his hand and began to read down it, looking for the first name.

“Abbas, Hans” he yelled. Someone around my age stepped forward; he had jet black hair and stood probably about five foot nine. The captain reached into the box and passed him a grenade.

It seemed like everyone in the group, including our instructor, stepped back. I watched as he unscrewed the tin cap from the bottom of the wooden handle and stared at the white cottom ball that hung from below it.

“Well?” The captain questioned. 'Hans' seemed to be shaking. 

“Lets go, we don't have all day!” he screamed.

There was something so different about live ammunition versus using a dummy. Naturally so, I understand, but it just... it felt terrifying to be in that position.

I watched as he yanked the white rope from the bottom of the grenade and threw it as hard as he physically could. Off in the distance you could hear the flutter of birds away, and moments later the same concussion came over the trench. I listened as the Captain picked up a radio to wait for a distance report. The further you threw, the better your grade.

The kid threw far enough to earn himself a B.

We went through this same process for another seven names, until I heard the Captain scream my name.

“Weimer, Friedrich!” he hollared. I stepped forward, looking at him. He hadn't looked at me yet and as he turned back from reaching into the metal box to hand me a grenade, he made eye contact with me.

“Are you the boxer?” he questioned

“Uh.. Yes” I hesitantly responded. “Is there a problem, sir?”

“Absolutely not, I've seen you fight before.” he remarked as he handed me the grenade. “Don't think you'll have much of a problem throwing this thing with that arm of yours!” he joked.

I smiled, taking the grenade from him. I could feel my heart beating rapidly, but I wanted to get this thing over with as quickly as I possibly could. 

“Just don't throw it so far that we can't hear if it goes off or not!” he joked as I unscrewed the thin metal cap off of the bottom. I smiled, gripping the white cloth and yanking it off as I raised my arm into the air.

I fuckin chucked the thing as hard as I physically could, and watched as it flew up and over the trench, continuing to fly for quite awhile.

About ten seconds later, we were standing there waiting for the concussion. 

“Huh, must be a dud-” The captain was mid sentence when the concussion came through, causing a few of the guys to jump in surprise. All I could hear was a ringing sound for a few seconds, and by the time it went away he had already finished listening to the radio. I smiled as the captain patted me on the shoulder and handed me my scorecard; an A+. 

Thank fuck. Now we can just finish the other fucking 45 people and go home.

I stepped back into the crowd to find Siegfried and smiled once I found him, observing “It looks like we're going to be here awhile...”

“Yeah, judging by the way everyone else is acting. Its a fuckin grenade, just throw it out of the trench and get over it. Its not like you can't re-do the test if you had to.” He replied.

I smiled. As Siegfried and I stood there watching others go through their exam, I began to find myself thinking of how long I'd known Siegfried.

I've already mentioned that we were friends from the beginning of me being here, but I don't really know if I mentioned much more about him. Its my fault, I know, I owe you guys an explanation but I've just been so distracted lately with everything thats been going on that it just.. hasn't come out. 

Siggi was one of the first guys to have my back at the Academy. The first week there is like your honeymoon; they let you stay in a private room so your visiting family doesn't get worried about the conditions, treat you all nicely, and give you a lot of slack.

Then, the next week comes and everything seems to fucking collapse around you. You're woken up at like... four o'clock in the morning to a screaming instructor barging into your room and ordering you into the communal sleeping rooms where most of the other new students sleep. I joined the academy well after the start of the year, so I was shoved into an empty bunk that had been vacated recently. I never knew what happened to the previous occupant, and never asked.

I met Siegfried during morning exercises; he was our squad's commander at the time, and was responsible for everything from roll-call to bed inspections and more. We didn't really speak to each-other much in the beginning, but as time went on it seemed like he'd taken a liking to me. I think it was when he showed me how to properly make my bed for inspection that we had our first real conversation.

I would be lying if I were to tell you I remember exactly what the conversation was about, but I now wish that I did remember. It was one of those things where someone so superior to you puts out their hand and offers you help for no apparent reason. As our relationship further progressed into a close friendship, he explained that he acted that way towards me because he felt like he could connect with me. In his mind, we were both athletes that had been hen-pecked from our groups to attend an academy far away. 

I guess he ignored the fact that his father was an important man in the military who probably arranged for him to attend, while I came from parents with reactionary backgrounds whom held no position in their lives higher than owning a farm in the Golderfeld.

Maybe that's what made me feel loyal to him; that he ignored the differences in our backgrounds and paid attention to the athletic connections we held. As time went by, he started to accelerate up the ladder of hierarchy here at the Academy. When we met, he was nothing more than a squad-leader, basically a second-lieutenant. A year later, he was already a Brigade commander, having been promoted six times. 

And all that time, he never once seemed to forget about me or look at me as less than him. I guess it was only when he made it to the top of the chain, becoming a Divisional commander and becoming responsible for over two hundred and fifty guys, that he stopped hanging around me. 

I understood, really... I did. He had a lot on his plate and being responsible for ensuring that things were going smoothly for all of those guys was a lot of added pressure. On top of that, he now had to get himself acquainted with the other four Divisional Commanders, and that was a lot. They were the sons of the most important people in the country, and he had a lot to live up to.

I didn't hold those months of loneliness against him, including the months that I went through the trail with Erik. I didn't hold it against him that my being alone was probably what led me to being beaten to an inch of my death on four different occasions. I didn't hold him accountable for the fact that I'd slipped into a depression.

It wasn't his fault that I had made some bad decisions at a bad time for him to be there for me. 

It wasn't his fault that everyone else abandoned me within two weeks either. 

I guess he was just... blissfully unaware of what was going on with me until recently.

I don't hold him accountable for any of it, despite how hard I cried wishing that I had at least one person back then to fucking be there for me.

Siegfried was strong and stoic, though he wasn't in the beginning. I remember vividly an experience where he had pissed himself one night and the sportlehrer forced him to piss on his bed-roll in front of us all during morning exercise. I think that situation scarred him; he changed, and now he presented himself as the model officer and the perfect person to be incharge of some important ministry of the government or branch of the armed forces in the future. He had strength, character, and determination. He showed loyalty, good decision making, and genuine kindness to those he cared about.

Maybe thats why he eventually came back around and hung out with me. Or maybe it was just because he needed someone who was gay to talk to about being Bi. I don't really know.

I wish I did.

To be fair, I guess I can hold him responsible for my becoming friends with the other Divisional Commanders.

I didn't realize that I'd been thinking so deeply until Siegfried shook my shoulder and showed me his grade card; an A. I smiled, congratulating him. I could tell he was trying to talk to me, but I just... felt out of it. It was weird, like despite all of the good things going on right now, that something would catch up to me eventually and ruin it all.

It was about fifteen minutes later that I think things finally caught up with me. I was standing there thinking about... to be honest, I don't really remember, when I was shaken out of it by screaming.

I looked up to see the captain yelling at someone much shorter than I; he looked to be about sixteen years old, and was shaking tremendously as he held the grenade in his hand. He had unscrewed the cap and was holding the still-attached white cloth in his hand as the captain complained, yelling;

“I don't have all day, Private!” 

It was then that he pulled the white cloth out and activated the grenade.

But he didn't throw it. 

He stood there for a second, shaking, before the grenade rolled out of his hand and landed on the ground at his feet.

Everything started to move at an unnaturally slow pace from then onward. The captain seemed to scream in slow motion at all of us to get out of the trench as he ran past us. The instructor was already climbing up the side of the trench and crawling away.

It didn't dawn on me until a few seconds later what was going to happen. All of the guys in the trench had started to  run for their lives towards the two exits the trench had, a few more desperately trying to climb up onto the side of the trench. Their fingers were slipping, the shorter ones unable to jump high enough to grab onto the sand bags at the top of the trench and pull themselves up.

As I turned to run and pull myself out of the trench, things started to slow down even further. A figure brushed past me and towards the grenade. I didn't realize who it was until it was too late.

It was Siegfried.

I turned and watched in slow-motion as Siegfried ran through the crowd of guys desperately trying to escape. 

I knew what he was doing, but I couldn't stop him. I was too late.

I screamed at him not to do it. 

I screamed louder and more desperately than I had ever screamed screamed in my life, but he was already pushing the sixteen year old kid with the grenade lying at his feet out of the way by the time I was yelling.

I watched as he turned towards us and threw himself down on the grenade.

As he threw himself down on the grenade, I desperately tried to run towards him, but someone grabbed my wrist to pull me back.

He looked up at me, and I will never. Fucking. Forget. His face. 

I will never forget the way he looked calm, cool, and collected.

I will never forget what he did. 

The concussion was muffled, and he didn't make a single noise. Within a few seconds of us making eye contact, my vision was blurred by blood that had splattered all across the sides of the trench and on the bodies of all of the guys whom were still close enough to the blast.

I froze. 

Time seemed to stand still as I stood there, staring through the smoke at... at him.

Everything in my body seemed to give up all at once, and I collapsed to the ground. 

“Siegfried....” I let out. I tried to walk forward, but slipped and fell into a puddle of blood.

I would be lying if I were to tell you what happened after that.

I would be lying if I were to tell you that the image of Siegfried's body wasn't fucking burned into my brain for the rest of my god damned fucking life.

I would be fucking lying if I told you I didn't cry my eyes out as I cried into what was left of his body, clinging desperately to his tunic. 

I would be fucking lying if I told you I didn't try to bandage the massive wounds with my shirt. If I told you that they didn't need six guys, including the Captain and Instructor, to pull me off of him.

I had just lost my last fucking friend. The only person that kept me going here. The only person that stayed with me throughout everything.

The only person who tried to make things better for me when everyone else was against me.

And I'd watched him blown to fucking bits.

Why the fuck would he do this to me...?

Why didn't I just fucking do what he did?

Why couldn't that STUPID FUCKING KID just throw the grenade like the rest of us?

Why couldn't the captain have shoved HIM down onto the grenade then run?

What was all of this even for? What was this supposed to teach us? What was giving a bunch of kids grenades and forcing them to train using live munitions supposed to teach the future ministers of the country? 

Was it supposed to fucking teach them what it was like to watch your best friend blown to fucking smitherings right infront of you?

Was it supposed to show you what saccrificing yourself for everyone else looked like? 

Was it supposed to give the countries future cabinet members, generals and officials PTSD?

Because thats what it did.

I couldn't fucking sleep that night. All I kept hearing in the back of my head was the sound of that grenade going off. The sound of blood spraying against the sides of the wood-lined trench. The sound of boots stepping through blood.

I didn't even shower that night. I completely forgot. I'm sure you can imagine how the shower the next morning went, watching as dried blood was hydrated and started pouring out of my hair, off of my face, and down my body. As my hands were covered with the blood of my best friend. As I returned to my room to find that the blood that had stuck to my hair had implanted itself on my pillow case. 

All it fucking did was replay that scene over and over again.

The same concussion.

The same sounds.

The same sights.

The same scream I threw out to try and get Siegfried not to do it.

It all kept running over and over in my head. 

\---*---*---*---*---

The funeral was.... official.

Siegfried's entire family had come out; His father the official, his mother, and his three brothers.

I tried my best to pay as close attention to all of the eulogies as possible, but the longer it went on the more apparent it became that they weren't treating this in the manner that it had happened.

Siggi hadn't been killed by some Russian with a machine gun. He hadn't been killed by a Syrian terrorist. He was killed by a stupid fucking kid with a grenade he should never have been handed. 

It was when the headmaster of our school, General Diefenbach, started his speech that I really wanted to fucking stand up and throttle the man. 

In all of his audacity, he started his speech with a line that made my blood boil.

“What better way to die than a heroes death?”

I fucking hated that man.

I tuned the rest of his eulogy out. I tried my best to pay attention out of respect for the best friend that I'd just had ripped from my arms, but I couldn't.

That fucking bastard just kept hyping up how much Siegfried loved the school. How he would have gone on to be one of the nation's best leaders, and how he died a heroes death.

He went on for what seemed like an hour, hyping everything up. 

The funeral ended at around nine at night, and as I slowly walked out of the chapel in the middle of the campus, my emotions started to flood over me.  


All of the memories we shared. All of the time we had spent together. 

All of the laughs.

I found myself stumbling over to the ledge of a short wall that held back a large group of flowers, and sat down on the heavy stone. It wasn't long before I completely fell apart.

I had lost my best friend, the only person here that kept me grounded. The only person that seemed to be able to make this place do-able. I only had a year left here, and I hoped it would go well.

I guess this was that sign that I had been looking for lately; how I'd been saying that the bad things would catch up with me sooner or later, and that I would return back to that depressing, bad place that was filled with beatings and harassment.

I guess I was right when I told Siegfried that some people were just... meant to be used as lessons to others. 

I just... didn't imagine that it would manifest itself in the way it did.

“Hey...”

I can't fucking imagine how his boyfriend felt. I saw him there, sitting in one of the pews. He stood out from the huge group of guys in jet-black dress uniforms, wearing their black armbands in mourning. He sat there in a suit, just crying. 

I know I never mentioned it, but after Siegfried came out to me, a few weeks later he admitted to me that he loved that guy. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.

I guess I was right when I told Siegfried that some people were meant to be alone, that somewhere along the lines their soulmate just... disappears.

I just... didn't fucking mean it to be about him.

I fucking meant it to be about me. 

“For fucks sake...”

I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked up; there were others sitting around me. To my right, a figure sat sobbing into his hands. To my left sat two guys, the one closest to me taking a long drag from a cigarette.

As my vision started to clear up, the dim lantern near us showed me that Albrecht, Tjaden, and Drew were sitting around me. Drew was sobbing uncontrollably, Albrecht smoking, and Tjaden just... rubbing his face with his hands.

We sat there in silence for at least half an hour, before Tjaden stood up and abruptly walked off.

About ten minutes later, Drew abruptly stood up and ran off.

I just... couldn't get up.

I still couldn't believe that he was gone...

Death is... a funny thing. One day you and your friend are sitting there trading jokes and laughing while you eat, and the next day he's had his chest blown to pieces and you're wiping his blood from your face.

“How do I fucking leave this place?” I muttered to myself. I didn't really want an answer.

I could feel Albrecht looking at me, and I could see the orange glow from the end of his cigarette out of the corner of my eye.

“Why... would you want to leave?” He questioned. His voice sounded tired.

I remained silent. I didn't really want to talk.

Having not answered him, he looked down and away, continuing to smoke. I waited for him to get up and go, but he didn't.

“Why would you want to leave?” he asked a few minutes later.

“You know why...” I muttered under my breath. 

“I do?”

“I have nothing left. No one left. I'm fucking alone now because... because...”

I couldn't actually put into words what happened. I tried to say that he was dead, but it wouldn't come out. All that came out were tears from my eyes.

A few minutes later, Albrecht dropped his cigarette and stood up. 

“You're not alone” he muttered.

I sighed. 

“Who else do I have now that my best friend is gone?”

He was quiet for awhile.

“How about me? Tjaden? Drew? We all lost our friend too” his voice sounded irritated. 

I looked up at him and just stared at him. His chest was covered with medals, a long ribbon went from his right shoulder pad down to the left side of his waist. It had a large stain on it that seemed like it had been hastily cleaned, and I just stared at it.

It reminded me of the stains on my tunic from Siegfried's blood.

“Just because he's gone doesn't mean we're going to fucking abandon you. You weren't a pity case that we hung out with because you were friends with Siegfried. You're a real fucking friend of ours.”

I just... sighed. 

“You don't think I'm not pissed and frightened and depressed as hell right now? I just lost someone who I trusted with everything” he said. His voice started to sound angry.

There was quiet for awhile.

“Your royalty ribbon has a stain on it, Your majesty” I snidely remarked as I stood up and started to walk away. I wasn't about to be lectured by him of all people, especially right after all of this.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back towards where he stood. I came face-to-face with him, and he just stared at me.

“You want to fucking know what this is?” he questioned angrily.

“Not really, I don't really fucking ca-”

“Its the blood of that fucking kid that killed Siegfried that was just expelled. I spent three hours with Drew, Tjaden, and the others beating the fucking shit out of him-”

“Good for fucking you, you should be so pr-”

“No, I shouldn't be proud. I'm not fucking proud, I'm fucking pissed off and angry and sad and depressed and disappointed with myself all at once.”

I just stood there staring at him.

“I lost my best fucking friend too, alright?” he yelled as he pushed me away. 

“Just because I'm the Crown Prince doesn't mean I can't fucking show emotion....”

“I didn't mean-” I tried to say, but he interrupted me.

“I know, I know.”

“I-”

“Just fuck off.”

I sighed, staring at him as he turned and walked away.

I watched him walk away for awhile. Then, out of no where, my feet started forcing me to follow him. He realized soon after and stopped, turning to me and turning extremely violent.

“Why the fuck are you following me?” he screamed.

“I... I don't know” I stammered.

“Leave me the fuck alone then” he yelled.

“I...”

He just stood there and stared at me, both of us lit only by a light-pole nearby. 

“Explain it, because I don't fucking understand. Why the fuck are you following me?” He demanded.

I sighed, trying to explain that I didn't know why. Maybe my mind was trying to keep me from losing someone who actually showed interest in being friends with me still. 

“Say SOMETHING” he screamed.  


All I could muster out was a dejected sigh. He stepped forward and shoved me away, seemingly furious. 

I just took it and stood there. After a moment, I whispered; 

“I just... I'm alone now, and I don't want to be...”

I turned and started to walk away, feeling tears stream down my face. In less than a week I had lost everything I had... for the third time in such a short span of time. I lost my family, I lost Erik, and now I lost my best friend. 

“Hey!” his voice screamed. I started to walk faster, soon running as fast as I could as I sobbed. 

I just wanted to be alone.

I didn't know where I was running to, but it didn't last long. I could hear the sound of a set of leather boots running behind me, and soon enough something grabbed my wrist and yanked me backwards and into a hard surface. I tried to push myself away, but couldn't; the surface was holding onto me as hard as it could, and I just sobbed into what felt like wool and metal. Underneath it I could feel a heartbeat and lungs expanding and deflating. 

I don't know how long I cried, but it was awhile.

The tears ran out, and soon I pulled away, wiping the space between my nose and my upper lip with my hand.

I looked up, and standing in front of me with a tired face was Albrecht. He just looked at me, his face expressing exhaustion.

“You want to go get a drink at that bar Siegfried loved?"

“I... I'm not really in the mood” I stammered. 

He nodded.

“How about a drink from my cabinet?”

I didn’t respond.

“Just one?”

“I-”

“Please... just one...” His hoarse voice seemingly begged.  


I sighed and slowly nodded. We both walked towards his officer's dorm slowly, hands deep in our pockets.

 I had to try as hard as possible not to lose it again on that walk.


	14. Chapter 14

The funeral was... honestly, it fucking sucked the life out of me even more.

Siegfried's entire family had come out; His father the official, his mother, and his three brothers.

I tried my best to pay as close attention to all of the eulogies as possible, but the longer it went on the more apparent it became that they weren't treating this in the manner that it had happened.

Siggi hadn't been killed by some Russian with a machine gun. He hadn't been killed by a Syrian terrorist. He was killed by a stupid fucking kid with a grenade he should never have been handed.

It was when the headmaster of our school, General Diefenbach, started his speech that I really wanted to fucking stand up and throttle the man.

In all of his audacity, he started his speech with a line that made my blood boil.

“What better way to die than a heroes death?”

I fucking hated that man.

I tuned the rest of his eulogy out. I tried my best to pay attention out of respect for the best friend that I'd just had ripped from my arms, but I couldn't.

That fucking bastard just kept hyping up how much Siegfried loved the school. How he would have gone on to be one of the nation's best leaders, and how he died a heroes death.

He went on for what seemed like an hour, hyping everything up.

The funeral ended at around nine at night, and as I slowly walked out of the chapel in the middle of the campus, my emotions started to flood over me.

All of the memories we shared. All of the time we had spent together.

All of the laughs.

I found myself stumbling over to the ledge of a short wall that held back a large group of flowers, and sat down on the heavy stone. It wasn't long before I completely fell apart.

I had lost my best friend, the only person here that kept me grounded. The only person that seemed to be able to make this place do-able. I only had a year left here, and I hoped it would go well.

I guess this was that sign that I had been looking for lately; how I'd been saying that the bad things would catch up with me sooner or later, and that I would return back to that depressing, bad place that was filled with beatings and harassment.

I guess I was right when I told Siegfried that some people were just... meant to be used as lessons to others.

I just... didn't imagine that it would manifest itself in the way it did.

“Hey...”

I can't fucking imagine how his boyfriend felt. I saw him there, sitting in one of the pews. He stood out from the huge group of guys in jet-black dress uniforms, wearing their black armbands in mourning. He sat there in a suit, just crying.

I know I never mentioned it, but after Siegfried came out to me, a few weeks later he admitted to me that he loved that guy. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.

I guess I was right when I told Siegfried that some people were meant to be alone, that somewhere along the lines their soulmate just... disappears.

I just... didn't fucking mean it to be about him.

I fucking meant it to be about me.

“For fucks sake...”

I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked up; there were others sitting around me. To my right, a figure sat sobbing into his hands. To my left sat two guys, the one closest to me taking a long drag from a cigarette.

As my vision started to clear up, the dim lantern near us showed me that Albrecht, Tjaden, and Drew were sitting around me. Drew was sobbing uncontrollably, Albrecht smoking, and Tjaden just... rubbing his face with his hands.

We sat there in silence for at least half an hour, before Tjaden stood up and abruptly walked off.

About ten minutes later, Drew abruptly stood up and ran off.

I just... couldn't get up.

I still couldn't believe that he was gone...

Death is... a funny thing. One day you and your friend are sitting there trading jokes and laughing while you eat, and the next day he's had his chest blown to pieces and you're wiping his blood from your face.

“How do I fucking leave this place?” I muttered to myself. I didn't really want an answer.

I could feel Albrecht looking at me, and I could see the orange glow from the end of his cigarette out of the corner of my eye.

“Why... would you want to leave?” He questioned. His voice sounded tired.

I remained silent. I didn't really want to talk.

Having not answered him, he looked down and away, continuing to smoke. I waited for him to get up and go, but he didn't.

“Why would you want to leave?” he asked a few minutes later.

“You know why...” I muttered under my breath.

“I do?”

“I have nothing left. No one left. I'm fucking alone now because... because...”

I couldn't actually put into words what happened. I tried to say that he was dead, but it wouldn't come out. All that came out were tears from my eyes.

A few minutes later, Albrecht dropped his cigarette and stood up.

“You're not alone” he muttered.

I sighed.

“Who else do I have now that my best friend is gone?”

He was quiet for awhile.

“How about me? Tjaden? Drew? We all lost our friend too” his voice sounded irritated.

I looked up at him and just stared at him. His chest was covered with medals, a long ribbon went from his right shoulder pad down to the left side of his waist. It had a large stain on it that seemed like it had been hastily cleaned, and I just stared at it.

It reminded me of the stains on my tunic from Siegfried's blood.

“Just because he's gone doesn't mean we're going to fucking abandon you. You weren't a pity case that we hung out with because you were friends with Siegfried. You're a real fucking friend of ours.”

I just... sighed.

“You don't think I'm not pissed and frightened and depressed as hell right now? I just lost someone who I trusted with everything” he said. His voice started to sound angry.

There was quiet for awhile.

“Your royalty ribbon has a stain on it, Your majesty” I snidely remarked as I stood up and started to walk away. I wasn't about to be lectured by him of all people, especially right after all of this.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back towards where he stood. I came face-to-face with him, and he just stared at me.

“You want to fucking know what this is?” he questioned angrily.

“Not really, I don't really fucking ca-”

“Its the blood of that fucking kid that killed Siegfried that was just expelled. I spent three hours with Drew, Tjaden, and the others beating the fucking shit out of him-”

“Good for fucking you, you should be so pr-”

“No, I shouldn't be proud. I'm not fucking proud, I'm fucking pissed off and angry and sad and depressed and disappointed with myself all at once.”

I just stood there staring at him.

“I lost my best fucking friend too, alright?” he yelled as he pushed me away.

“Just because I'm the Crown Prince doesn't mean I can't fucking show emotion....”

“I didn't mean-” I tried to say, but he interrupted me.

“I know, I know.”

“I-”

“Just fuck off.”

I sighed, staring at him as he turned and walked away.

I watched him walk away for awhile. Then, out of no where, my feet started forcing me to follow him. He realized soon after and stopped, turning to me and turning extremely violent.

“Why the fuck are you following me?” he screamed.

“I... I don't know” I stammered.

“Leave me the fuck alone then” he yelled.

“I...”

He just stood there and stared at me, both of us lit only by a light-pole nearby.

“Explain it, because I don't fucking understand. Why the fuck are you following me?” He demanded.

I sighed, trying to explain that I didn't know why. Maybe my mind was trying to keep me from losing someone who actually showed interest in being friends with me still.

“Say SOMETHING” he screamed.

All I could muster out was a dejected sigh. He stepped forward and shoved me away, seemingly furious.

I just took it and stood there. After a moment, I whispered;

“I just... I'm alone now, and I don't want to be...”

I turned and started to walk away, feeling tears stream down my face. In less than a week I had lost everything I had... for the third time in such a short span of time. I lost my family, I lost Erik, and now I lost my best friend.

“Hey!” his voice screamed. I started to walk faster, soon running as fast as I could as I sobbed. 

I just wanted to be alone.

I didn't know where I was running to, but it didn't last long. I could hear the sound of a set of leather boots running behind me, and soon enough something grabbed my wrist and yanked me backwards and into a hard surface. I tried to push myself away, but couldn't; the surface was holding onto me as hard as it could, and I just sobbed into what felt like wool and metal. Underneath it I could feel a heartbeat and lungs expanding and deflating.

I don't know how long I cried, but it was awhile.

The tears ran out, and soon I pulled away, wiping the space between my nose and my upper lip with my hand.

I looked up, and standing in front of me with a tired face was Albrecht. He just looked at me, his face expressing exhaustion.

“You want to go get a drink at that bar Siegfried loved?"

“I... I'm not really in the mood” I stammered.

He nodded.

“How about a drink from my cabinet?”

I didn’t respond.

“Just one?”

“I-”

“Please... just one...” His hoarse voice seemingly begged.

I sighed and slowly nodded. We both walked towards his officer's dorm slowly, hands deep in our pockets.

I had to try as hard as possible not to lose it again on that walk.

The long flights of stairs that led up to his dorm room were tiring; especially considering he was roomed on the top floor. I didn't really have the energy for all of the steps, but I wasn't really paying attention to anything else but the same images that kept repeating in my head.

Walking past his room didn't fucking help. The door was taped shut with thick, black tape, and the doorway itself was covered three times over with yellow caution tape. It was quite obvious they didn't want anyone going in there unsupervised. I guess that was probably for the best; people taking shit wouldn't bode well with the family. 

“Poor fucking Hefe” I thought to myself.

My feet carried me all the way down the long hallway to the end, where a door substantially larger than the rest sat. A man in an army uniform, ranked somewhere around Captain, stood with a rifle at his side next to the door. I looked between him and Albrecht a few times, before Albrecht spoke up.

“Willy, this is Friedrich. He's good.”

The captain nodded, looking at me. I smiled, but he didn't smile back.

“He's my guard” Albrecht muttered. 

“You need a guard?”

“Royal Guard demands it. So he's their... guy.”

Willy looked over and us, but his facial expression didn't change. It wasn't unit Albrecht patted him on the cheek with the back of his hand that he actually smiled.

“Whats the threat?” I questioned

“I don't really know. I just accept it.”

I nodded, watching as he took out his wallet and waved it up against a small black box on the wall next to his door. There was a distinct beeping sound followed by what sounded like a bunch of locks unhitching. Moments later he turned the handle and walked into his room, ushering me to follow. 

His room was large and well-decorated; in fact, it seemed to have multiple rooms. The room I walked in had a desk on the far wall in front of a window and two couches positioned in front of a TV. I looked around, but jumped as the door behind me slammed shut.

“Willy's protective” Albrecht spoke up, trying to explain the slamming.

“Yeah...”

I kept looking around, but watched as he seemed to beeline straight for a large cabinet. He swung it open, and ushered me over.

Hanging on the door were a few pictures of he and his family; a family portrait of him and his parents, one of him and his friends, and a few medals tacked to the interior of the cabinet door.  
Sitting on the shelves were various bottles of alcohol, and before I could examine them further he drilled me on what I wanted.

“You care?”

“Nah.”

“Good, because I was just going to give you this anyway” he said as he pulled a bottle of what appeared to be Bourbon from the top shelf and handed it to me.

“Its American, so you never know if its going to be good or not until you try it.” He remarked as he pulled two glasses out and closed the cabinet back up.

“But its from some place called Tennessee, and its actually really good.”

I nodded, handing him back the bottle. He waved me off, instead pointing to the couch. I walked over and plopped down, watching him as he threw himself down onto the couch and threw his feet up onto the coffee table in the middle of the two couches and chair. I looked up at him as he placed the two glasses down on the table and held his hand out for the bottle. I passed it to him, and he filled both of the glasses up to the brim.

“I... don't really drink that much, you know” I joked.

“And neither of us expected to lose Siegfried, did we?” He replied coldly, handing one of the glasses to me as he threw his back and swallowed.

I sighed, taking it and sipping half of it. It fucking stung, but it was smoother than I was used to.

“Come on, sipping?” he stared. “You've gotta throw it back or else you're never going to be able to handle it”

I smiled, knocking back the glass and downing the rest of the alcohol. I looked over at him and watched him stand up, starting to undo his dress tunic and throw it on a hanger that hung on one of the doors. 

“These fucking dress tunics are so damn tight around the neck” he complained.

“Yeah...” I replied. It was probably because of that medal he wore around his neck.

I watched as he undressed from his waist upward, throwing off the tunic, tie, and dress shirt he wore under it to reveal a plain white T-Shirt. He walked back over to the couch and, though he struggled for awhile, pulled his black leather boots off. 

“These things...” he complained.

I nodded in agreement slowly. If I hadn't just lost my best friend, I would be enjoying this show.

He threw his feet back up on the solid wood table and poured another drink, downing it before looking over at me. He held the bottle up, offering me another drink, and I accepted.

“He was...” I tried to say, but my throat was still on fire from the bourbon. 

“He was fucking great” Albrecht finished.

I sat there and ran through my thoughts for awhile. Siegfried was everything to me; he'd been there for me for so long, I didn't know what I was going to do without him, but the more and more I thought about him the more the image of him just... lying there... came back.

“I'm so fucking done with all of this bullshit, I just need to destress” Albrecht let out a distressed yell. I jumped in surprise as he shot up and walked back over to his cabinet.

“You spark?” He questioned. What?

“Pardon?”

“I said, you spark?”

“Whats...?”

“Do you smoke?”

“No, I don't want to get-”

“Not cigarettes.”

“You mean weed?”

“What, do you think I do crack or something?” he joked, a smile coming up on his face.

“No no, you're not that skinny” I shot back.

“So, do you smoke?” He questioned, holding up what looked like a cigarette. I watched as he walked over with it and a little metal tin. He started to twist the cigarette, revealing that it was in-fact made of metal and had a long empty where the “tobacco” would go if it were real.

“No, we go through random drug tests” I replied, watching him. He opened the tin and the immediate smell of weed filled the room.

“I can get you out of that, you know.” He remarked coldly.

“Oh? How?” I questioned.

“Don't ask questions. Do you want me to spark you up or no?” He questioned.

“I... I think I'm good.” I insisted. He kept his gaze on me for a moment, waiting to see if I changed my mind, but as I sat and stared at him I guess he figured I was pretty serious.

“Hope you don't mind if I do, then” 

“Nah, you're fine. Its your room after all.”

“Yeah...”

“Willy ever question what you're doing?”

“He gets paid to guard me. That includes guarding me from inspections and shit like that.”

“He really force the Floor Inspectors away?”

“Oh, they don't come up to this floor anyway, but even if they did they'd have no right to come in here.”

“Why not?”

“Because they don't have the security clearance. I'm the Emperor's son, who knows what top secret shit i've got on me.”

“Do you?”

He laughed like he hadn't in awhile.

“Of course not, but its just a way to protect me from the consequences of what I might be doing that the school doesn't like.”

“Oh.”

He leaned back and pulled a lighter out of his pocket, holding it up to the end of his fake cigarette. 

“I'm here because I've got a year of schooling to finish, not for them to fuck with me.”

I sat there, watching him inhale on his joint. 

Everyone grieves differently; some people deal with it outwardly, and some deal with it inwardly; he seemed to be inward with it. He hadn't let a lick of emotion except for anger release since he'd heard the news. Not a single weary eye, red face, or anything.

In fact, ever since it happened, he seemed to start to clam up more. He became more mysterious, not talking as much when I was around him and carrying himself in a way that seemed... I don't know, strange is an understatement.

It was like he was separating himself from everyone emotionally; he didn't joke around as much and kept that other part of him, that kind that was willing to joke and talk to people in a real and personal way, inside. 

And it wasn't just around me. The more days went by, the more other people noticed. First it was Tjaden and Christoph, and then it was Drew. While everyone was grieving and letting their emotions out, he was locking his away.

I just sat there and stared at him as he took a drag on his... joint, I guess, before setting it down in a glass ashtray next to him. He breathed out loudly and put his hands behind his head.

“You sure? I'm fine with sparking you up. Siegfried and I...”

He fell silent.

I sighed, louder than I meant to, when he said Siegfried's name.

He leaned forward, looking at me. His expression was stone cold but he seemed to be sweating lightly, his forehead glistening. He stared at me, and I offered a glance back once in awhile, but I couldn't figure out what he was doing and it sort of made me nervous. All of a sudden he let out a great, almost desperate sounding groan as he threw his arms onto the couch behind him. 

“Siegfried always told me to be honest with myself and those around me that I was close with” he said, breaking the silence. I looked towards him, but didn't speak.

“He was always on my ass telling me that I needed to be myself, that yeah I'm gonna be Emperor one day but I have to be my own person, not what people try and groom me to be.”

I nodded.

We were quiet for awhile. I wasn't sure how long, but it felt like 10 minutes. 

Out of the blue, he looked up at me and stared at me for awhile, before letting out a laugh. I looked at him curiously.

“Did he ever tell you about Hefe?”

“Yeah” I replied quietly, nodding. 

“He really loved the guy.” He said shortly.

I nodded again.

“You know, he was always terrified of telling you that he was bi. Said he thought that you'd hate him for hiding it from you for so long, and by the time he was with Hefe he thought you'd kill him.”

“I mean, he and Hefe seemed like a nice couple, I don't know why he'd be mad-”

“He'll strangle me in my sleep for this, but it was because at first he had a crush on you but didn't want to say anything about it.”

My heart jumped, and I listened as he continued. 

“He didn't want to risk his friendship with you over something like that. Said he'd never forgive himself if him asking you out ended up ruining your friendship.”

Siegfried liked me?

“I...” I stuttered.

“You probably would of said no, wouldn't you?”

I just stared at him. After awhile, I nodded.

“Yeah, he knew you weren't ready for someone after what happened.”

I nodded.

We were quite for awhile, and I watched as his expression slowly started to change. The room had a thin layer of smoke at the top towards the ceiling from his smoke-rings he'd blow, and after a little while he looked back over and me and smiled.

“You know, he fucking hated himself for what happened.”

“What?”

“He was so busy that he didn't have the chance to defend you when it mattered the most, and it killed him”

I just stared.

“He fucking killed himself over it every day of that trial you went through. He just kept punching himself for not being there when things went to shit.”

“I mean, its not like he would have been able to stop Erik...”

Albrecht just stared at me. It was almost unnerving the way his deep, blue eyes seemed to stare straight into my soul.

“Yeah, but that didn't stop him from feeling like shit for it.”

I nodded.

We were quiet for awhile, and I watched as he took another drag from his joint.

'Man, he's going to go off the wall soon...' I thought to myself.

“You know, he always told me to be true to myself” Albrecht muttered.

I nodded, replying; “Yeah, I remember you telling me that.”

He looked up and stared at me for awhile, a smile slowly breaking across his once stone-cold face. I think the weed was kicking in at that point.

“You should take your tunic off, you're making me nervous.”

“Huh?” I questioned. “How so?”

“I'm sitting here high as shit and you're sitting there holding a glass in one hand wearing a dress uniform. This isn't some formal shit you know.”

“Well, I've gotta go back to my room in a little while.”

“Why?” 

I blinked a few times, looking up at him.

“You can stay here the night” he remarked, pouring himself another drink and downing it.

“I mean, I don't think bed inspection would appreciate that.”

“Our best fucking friend died. I'd be able to get you out of anything you did.” 

I let a smile break across my face. I think the alcohol was starting to loosen me up a little bit, but I still couldn't get the images of what I'd seen out of my head. They appeared every time I closed my eyes.

“C'mon. It'd make me more comfortable if you did.” he insisted.

I sighed, standing up and unbuttoning my tunic before I tossed it on the back of the couch. The medals clanged against each other as they knocked against the couch, and I plopped back down on the couch, unbuttoning my dress shirt and tossing it atop my tunic.

He smiled, holding his pipe out for me. I waved him off, and he gave a sort of annoyed eyeroll.

“Really. Drug tests, I don't want to get kicked out” I remarked. “Wouldn't have anywhere to go, you know?”

“Nobody's getting you kicked out, not as long as I'm a member of the royal family” he muttered. I looked at him curiously, but he didn't explain.

“I just... regret that I never got to ask him for all of the advice I needed.”

“Advice?”

“You don't want to know.”

“I... I do.”

“You don't”

“Why not?”

He looked up and just stared at me. This time it wasn't like he was staring through me or looking for something, but was looking me up and down.

“Because.” he said sternly, taking a swig from the bottle itself.

“You're going to have a killer hangover tomorrow” I joked.

He nodded.

“He always was on my ass about being open and being myself. That I needed to take chances...” he said, looking across the room.

That was the third time he said that tonight. Did he not realize he was repeating himself?

“He kept telling me to go for what I wanted, to take the chances he wasn't willing to go for.”

I looked at him confused. He seemed to be sweating a bit more than before, and had already taken his belt off and thrown it across the room. I gathered the weed and alcohol was starting to get to him.

“You want something else to drink?” he questioned as he stood up and walked towards a small fridge that sat atop a counter with a sink in it.

“Uh...I mean, some water?” I asked quietly.

“Sure” he commented, reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a large glass, filling it with water from the tap. He carried it back to me, handing it to me as he sat down right next to me, cracking a can of Pepsi open and taking a long drink from it. He sighed with relief, and looked over at me.

And let out a massive burp.

I don't know if it was the second-hand weed smoke or the alcohol, but that was one of the funniest things I'd heard in awhile, and cracked the fuck up, spilling my water all over me as I lost control of the glass. He looked at me and started laughing uncontrollably.

We just sat there and laughed for what felt like five minutes at each-other, and it was one of the most cathartic experiences I'd ever experienced.

After a few minutes, we both got quiet again, and he threw the TV on, switching between channels and passing the news faster than I'd seen anyone do in awhile. He landed on the dubbed version of American Dad and stayed there, just watching it.

We sat there watching TV together for what felt like awhile. I'm not sure how long it was, but I know at around 1:30, as I was getting up to get dressed and head out, he grabbed my leg and ushered me to sit down again.

“You... you know how I said that he always wanted me to be honest with myself and those around me that I cared about?”

I nodded, looking at him. He seemed to be struggling with something.

“I...”

“What?”

“I... I've hidden some things in my life. A lot of things from people in my life, really, but a few really big things.”

“Like?”

He looked up and stared me straight in the eyes. His eyes were bloodshot, and I could tell he was still heavily high on whatever he'd smoked. That, combined with the alcohol, probably wasn't helping him make proper decisions.

“I... uh...” he struggled. 

I looked at him and explained that it was fine for people to keep secrets. That not everyone was willing to be open about everything. 

That was when he looked me straight in the eye and let it out.

“I'm gay, Friedrich.”

I froze. He sat there, staring straight at me, as I fuddled with my words. The Crown Prince... had just come out of the closet... to me...

What the fuck was I supposed to say?

“I've wanted to tell someone besides the guys that for so long...” he muttered. 

I nodded slowly, unable to find anything to say.

“I... would ask you if you were okay with that, but I figure I know your opinion.” he said, looking away and picking up his bottle of alcohol again. He held it in his hand as he looked at me, waiting for a response.

“I mean, considering... who I am... you know what my response is going to be.”

“Did you know?”

“I had no idea, to be honest” I replied.

He just smiled and took a swig from the bottle. I was pretty sure we'd already had half of it.

“You know, you're really oblivious” he laughed as he set the bottle down.

“Huh?” I questioned.

“I said, you're pretty oblivious” he repeated.

“Yeah... I just... don't...I don't know. I've got a lot on my mind these past few months.”

“Doesn't mean you should be as oblivious as you have been.”

“What do you mean?”

“Friedrich...” he said quietly, before looking me in the eyes.

“I've been hitting on you for two months and not once have you realized it.”

My heart almost jumped out of my chest.

“And I get that you've been through a lot in the past few months and all, but it would have been nice to get a response back... at all” he said clearly.

“I... honestly, I had no idea...” I stammered. My head kept replaying what he said over and over again, trying to find some way to construe it in a manner that didn't mean he liked me.

But I couldnt. 

“You didn't?” he looked curiously.

“N...no” I replied, stuttering. I could feel sweat running down my back and my hands were starting to shake, and I found myself turning, pressing my back up against the arm of the couch and folding my legs together cross-legged.

He looked down at his feet for awhile, and I just kept thinking of what he said over and over again. I could feel more and more parts in my body start to shake, and soon enough my brain was trying to convince me that this was all a dream.

“I... I get that you're not ready for something else” he muttered “but when you are, could you tell me? Because... i'd really like to try something” he finished.

“Try what...” my heart forced out of my mouth. I immediately wanted to punch myself, and watched as he looked over. 

“Try to be myself...with you” he replied, looking at me. His eyes were still bloodshot, but he seemed to look on me longingly. I could feel my heart rate go off the walls.

I just sat there in silence, staring at him. He was looking down at his hands as he twiddled with his thumbs.

“Siegfried kept pressuring me to actually go out and ask you this, but I never had the balls. He kept saying that you and I'd be great together, that our personalities would match, and that we each had something the other needed.”

I sat there quietly. What could I possibly have that he needed...?

He seemed to notice my silence, and looked up worriedly. 

“I... I haven't scared you, have I? I'm sorry if I'm being too forward...” he said apologetically, reaching for my jacket. 

“No... no... its just...”

My words fell apart, and I couldn't continue. He let go of my jacket and moved closer, looking at me concerned.

“What?” he said worryingly.

“I just... don't know what to say.” I managed to get out.

“I told you Friedrich, its alright if you aren't-”

“What if I'm willing to try?” I blurted out. I almost immediately regretted what I said, watching him stare at his hands. 

A few moments later, he looked up and straight into my eyes.

“Are you?” he whispered as he started to move across the couch and closer to me. My brain had lost all control and my heart was taking over. 

“I...”

He moved even closer, and I found myself slumping back, lying close to flat on the couch, only my head supported by the arm of the couch.

Before I realized what was happening, his nose and mine were brushing up against each-other. I could smell the mix of alcohol and marijuana coming off of his breath and surrounding me as he breathed, and he spoke up, seemingly apprehensively.

“Are you.. alright with this?” he questioned seriously.

I looked straight into his eyes. After a moment of stuttering, I was able to at least get something out.

“Yes” I stammered. He looked even more serious, and leaned out.

“You're absolutely sure?” He questioned, looking down at me. I pushed myself back up against the armrest and nodded slowly.

“I don't want to make you do something you don't want to do.”

I don't know what caused it, but I reached out and gripped his shirt, holding onto it with my fist as I pulled him back towards me.

He smiled.

He leaned in, and our lips touched for the first time. We were both clearly apprehensions at first. He was the first person I'd kissed in months and the third person ever.

His lips were smooth, probably the softest I'd ever felt. His hands held me by my ribs for awhile, before slowly sliding down my body and onto my hips. He was gentle, but still dominant.

We kissed passionately, almost hungrily, as his hands held onto my hips. We just kept going at it for what felt like forever; I didn't realize how much I needed something like this until now. Just the feeling of someone holding onto me like that made me feel... I don't know. 

Maybe it made me feel human again. Like my existence had a reason. 

Maybe it made me feel like I was wanted again. All I know is that despite everything that had happened recently, it made me feel like a person again.

I'm not sure how long we were at it for, but I knew he pulled off me and let me go around two in the morning. As he helped me button up my tunic, we shared another few embraces. 

For the first time in a really, really long time, I felt genuinely good, though embarrassed. 

As I went out the door, my face ablaze with embarrassment, I rushed past his guardsman and down the hallway. I was about to open the large fire-door that led down the side stairwell when his voice hollered for me.

“Friedrich!” Albrecht’s voice carried down the hallway. I looked back down the hallway and squinted, realizing he was waving my dress shirt. 

In my rush out, I had pulled on my tunic without actually putting my shirt back on.

I ran back down the hallway and grabbed my shirt, fully intending on just going. I didn't want to do anything in front of is guard, but it seemed he had other ideas.

Before I realized what was going on, he had spun me around and slammed me up against his door.

“That hurt” I declared.

“Sorry” he apologized, though a cocky look on his face made me feel like he didn't mean it.

That was alright, I guess.

Before I knew it, he was pressing his lips up against my neck. I stood there surprised, before looking over at his guard with the sudden realization of what was going on.

He wasn't paying attention, just looking forward.

Soon enough, Albrecht’s nose was brushing up against mine again as he tilted his head, pressing his lips against mine. I couldn't help but return his advances.

He didn't seem to care what anyone might think if we were caught, but I was worried.

A minute or so later, he pulled back, letting me go. I stumbled backwards in shock and embarrassment, watching him as he disappeared into his room and shut the door, before I made eye contact with his guard.

All he did was smile. 

I wandered across the campus, continually replaying what had happened the past few hours in my head. 

It was a nice distraction from... from what had happened, but it didn't make up for it. 

Maybe I wasn't alone after all...


	15. Chapter 15

Or maybe I was...

I woke up the next morning with the blare of the horn and went through the day doing my normal Friday routine, which this week included an exam in our foreign cultures lecture. I thought I did pretty well on it, but I couldn't be sure until we got our marks back the next week; you never know how the professor is going to respond to that essay, especially in a school where the questions are often written with political leanings and you're supposed to write your own opinions.

The best way for me to put it is, for some people, it would be like being a gay American Democrat writing a paper on same-sex marriage when your professor is an Evangelical Republican. Some things just don't mix, especially when you're unsure of where your instructor stands.

My professor would probably be proud of me for remembering all of those American political concepts from our class; hopefully I used them properly.

The next few days went by quickly at first, but slowly towards the end. I understand that it takes time to heal the wounds of loss, but it doesn't help when you sit at an empty table, next to an empty seat, that your best friend used to occupy every morning in your lecture hall. It doesn't help when your instructor accidentally calls his name in roll call, all to realize after repeating his name several times that the guy isn't ever going to be in his class again.

That he's dead.

That his... fucking stomach.. got blown out onto the wooden floor of a trench two hours outside of the academy because some fucking kid couldn't muster the balls to just...

I don't know. All I know is that I don't want to talk about it anymore. I deal with those images enough when I try to fall asleep at night, I don't need to keep bringing it up on purpose.

I'd like to at least have some level of control over my life.

It had been about a week since his funeral. About a week since... what happened with him..

The first few days, I was in... I don't know. I guess you could say a state of equilibrium; I was dead inside because of what happened with Siegfried, but what happened with Albrecht felt like it'd planted a seed in my chest that was starting to take root. That somehow, someway, things would get better from there onward.

That was before everything else happened.

I hadn't seen Albrecht since that night; in fairness to him, the first few days after the funeral I was... pretty busy. Schoolwork, boxing practice, and other things took up all of my time, but by Tuesday I was actively trying to make contact with him again. I needed answers about what happened that night.

I needed to know if he'd still wanted to 'make a go of it'.

If his offer to try some sort of relationship was still valid, days later.

I tried to make contact with him a few times; at first by text message, but it seemed that every text I sent him either didn't go through or didn't get a response. I thought it strange at first, but chalked it up to the fact his security probably made it so his phone didn't get contacted from people they didn't approve.

To be honest, I don't think it hit me until late Tuesday night, a few days after the funeral, that what happened with Albrecht had actually happened. I kept thinking that it was a dream, maybe something that I'd made up in my stressed state to try and deal with the fact that my best friend was gone.

It was Thursday afternoon, as I walked across the campus towards my dorm building, that I at least got some semblance of recognition that what happened had actually happened. It just... didn't come in the form that I expected it to.

As I walked down the long pathway that connected one of the lecture halls to the armory and my dorm building, I passed the large metal gate that led to the parking lot and driveway where visitors would come in and new recruits would be dropped off, and stopped as I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A short, black sedan was parked idling, with a large group of what seemed like school officials, instructors, and a middle-aged woman standing around it. She seemed reserved, and stood off to the side by the car as the group of school officials talked amongst themselves.

A few minutes later, I watched as headmaster Diefenbach walked out of the visitors center, towing a boy along side him. In his hand he carried a large, rectangular leather suitcase, and had an annoyed expression on his face. He walked to the car and handed the woman the suitcase, then presenting the boy to her. 

She looked like she was crying.

As she threw the suitcase in the trunk and opened the passenger-side door, I got a glimpse of the boy with her; It was that kid that had failed to throw the grenade properly. The one that ended up killing Siegfried. 

I watched as he got into the car and the woman, likely his mother, got in the drivers seat. A few moments later, they drove off down the long pebble driveway, the officials not even looking back as they walked into the visitors center.

I knew that they would expel him for what he did; failing a munitions test in the way he did was enough in itself to get you in trouble, but it causing the death of not only a student, but the eldest son of a government Minister...

I don't know. I was glad to see him go is all, I guess I'm trying to say. 

As I turned to continue walking back to my dorm, I heard a voice off in the distance yell “Oi, Friedrich!”

I looked forward, and could see a figure running my way. The distinctly British accent gave off that it was probably Drew, and as he neared me, that fact was confirmed.

I smiled, nodding up at him as I reached out to shake his hand. He was dressed sharply; it wasn't his dress uniform, but it was the nicer version of your normal everyday uniform. He had all of his medals and ribbons on, along with his ceremonial cord that went from his right shoulder blade down and across his chest to the left part of his waist.

“What are you all dressed up for, Drew?” I questioned. 

“Oh, some Americans are comin' today and I'm one of the ones whose supposed to greet'em.”

“That sounds like fun” I remarked

“Yeah, once we give em the tour and get em situated in the guest rooms we're gonna take em out into the city tonight”

“Sounds great” I smiled.

Drew was one of those rare people you meet in a tough situation that seems unnaturally at peace. I don't know what it was that made him always seem calm and collected; maybe it was his relationship with God, or maybe it was just his personality, but he rarely seemed to swing into the extremes of his emotions. 

He spent a lot of time keeping himself looking good; though its true that we all at the academy spent a decent amount of time making sure we were presentable by requirement, he went the extra mile. Even during the weekends, when we weren't required to... really even bother with the way we looked, so long as we weren't going to an official function, he made sure to remind people he was gorgeous. 

There was something about a guy who always wore tight-fitting athletic clothing and had an accent that made me go wild. Then again, it would probably make any girl or gay guy go wild too. 

“So whatcha been up to? Haven't seen you since...”

His voice went from cheerful to reserved. I nodded understandingly so he didn't have to repeat what we all were still trying to deal with.

“Oh, a lot of schoolwork and practice to get through. A lot of matches coming up the next few months.”

“Ah, alright mate.” He replied, further remarking “well whenever you've got the time, we've gotta hang out again”. I smiled, watching as he waved and started to walk away.

I don't know what made me do it, but I blurted out something I probably shouldn't have.

“Drew, have you seen Albrecht recently?”

He stopped, turning back towards me. He'd only walked about ten feet away.

“Yeah, he's a couple minutes behind me. Why?”

“Just haven't seen him in awhile.”

“Ah, alright. Just warnin' you now though, he's been in a bit of a pisser since what happened.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, figured I'd warn you”

“What do you mean, a pisser?”

“Oh, you'll find out if you talk to'im, trust me.” 

He smiled and waved once more, turning around and continuing towards the visitors hall.

I sighed, digging my hands into my pockets as I walked down the pathway and towards my dorm. The untimely cool breeze that had been here only a week or so ago had burned off, and we were back to the pre-summer warm air that always seemed to loft over the Capitol this time of year. 

Off in the distance, I noticed a tall figure walking towards me; he walked with a quick pace, seemingly adjusting something on the breast of his tunic as he quickly marched down the pathway. As he neared me, I realized Drew was right; it was Albrecht , a few minutes behind Drew.

I smiled, the memories of that night flooding back to me. As we neared eachother, I tried to think of some way to greet him that wouldn't sound awkward considering we hadn't spoken since what happened. I kept mulling the options over in my mind before finally concluding that just a simple 'Hey' would suffice.

As we neared within ear-shot of each other, I spoke up;

“Hey Stranger”

There was no response. He seemed to still be occupied with whatever he was adjusting on his breast pocket, and even after he finished that he went straight to what was probably his cuff-links. He was probably just too distracted to hear me.

Within fifteen feet of each-other, I tried catching his attention again.

“Hey!”

There was, once again, no response. I tried once more as he was about to pass me, noticing the distinctly loud noise of music coming from him.

'Oh... He's just listening to his IPhone... phew.' I thought to myself.

As he passed me, I sort of tapped and grabbed his arm at the same time, tugging on his sleeve as he passed by before letting go to catch his attention. He looked up and looked around, before realizing I was standing behind me. He reached up and pulled his earbuds out, looking at me questioningly.

I offered a warm smile, but he didn't reciprocate. I was pretty sure his facial expression had gone from “oh, its you”, but I wasn't sure. My heart started to sink.

“Haven't seen you in awhile” I tried joking.

“Yeah... long time no see” he responded dryly.

“Whats up?” I questioned

“Not much... not much... you need something?”

“I was just saying 'Hey', we haven't seen each other in awhile”

“Yeah... Listen, I've got somewhere to be, did you need something or not?”

I just looked at him for a moment, fuddling with my words.

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Yeah, I'm going out into the city.”

“Well, when you have some free time again, I'd... like to talk about what happened.”

“What happened?”

“You know... that night...”

His whole figure seemed to change, and he wiped his mouth with his hand as he looked down and away before speaking.

“Listen”. His voice was different; it sounded... almost agitated.

“What happened is what happened. I don't really want to talk about it.”

“Oh...” I muttered, looking at him. “I... Alri-”

“I'd just rather we not speak about what happened, alright?”

I looked at him and watched as he refused to make eye contact with me. I was totally fucking lost...

“I... don't understand. What happened?”

“You and I both know what happened. We were both there.”

“Yeah, but it was consen-”

He clenched his fist and looked up at me.

“Listen Friedrich, I made some mistakes. I wasn't in the right place and did things I'm not proud of, understand me?” He said aggressively. His voice carried this level of aggravation that I hadn't heard from anyone in a long time, and I could feel myself start to close up. 

“I... I understand” I said, my hand starting to shake. “I just... thought you...”

“We both thought a lot of things. Like I said, I was drunk. I did things that the Crown Prince should never have done, and now I'm dealing with the concequences, so-”

“The consequences?” I questioned

“Yes, the consequences. You and I made out, and now I have to deal with that in the back of my mind for my entire life. Its just another fucking loose end that'll always be there waiting to ruin my reputation and my career”

“ Albrecht, I would never...”

“Its Commander. Not Albrecht.” He asserted. 

I don't know how to describe it, but have you ever been with someone and all of the sudden, despite your similarities physically, you feel so much smaller than them? That no matter your height you're looking up and them and they're looking down and you? That often enough, they're proud of their position?

I... didn't know how to deal with what he said. I didn't know how to deal with any of this, but it didn't matter, because he just kept going.

“Okay, Sir” I replied, my voice shaking. I could feel his burning gaze on me, and I tried my best not to look up from my boots.

“I suppose at some point in my life that night is going to rear its ugly head and you're going to come to me wanting something in exchange for keeping it under wraps, so you might as well tell me what you want now so I can work on it.”

“I dont want anything...” I muttered.

“Really? Come on now, you” he paused for a little while. I wanted to look up, but I just couldn't. I wanted to run the hell away, but I couldn't. It was like everything in my body had suddenly become stone.

“You knew what you were doing” he continued.

“I didnt want anything...” I muttered out. I could feel that I was losing control of my emotions, my voice going hoarse and my eyes welling up.

“What do you fucking want from me?” he screamed. I... I just couldn't respond.

You fucking came onto me... I didn't fucking pressure you into anything for fucks sake....

“Is it some sort of fucking position in power?”

All I fucking wanted was not to be alone. 

“Is it money?”

I wanted to say a lot of things to him as he stood there yelling at me, but I just... couldn't.

“Is it power over me or something?” he screamed.

I...

“Is that your fucking sick fetish or something? Having power over people like me so you can show up in 20 years and ask me for something or else you'll ruin my fucking life?”

I didn't reply. I couldn't. I kept trying to speak up, to try and explain that I didn't want anything from him, that I didn't mean anything by what had happened.

That he was the first person who had shown any interest in me outside of my boxing ability in... in years...

And that it had meant the world to me for that short time.

But I couldn't.

Not as he stood there screaming at me. All I could do was lose control of everything.

He stepped forward and screamed at me once more. To be honest, I don't even know what he said. I couldn't hear anything over my own thoughts. 

Out of nowhere, I was shoved backwards, losing my balance and landing on my back and the back of my head slamming into the slate pathways. He was still standing there, staring at me, like he was waiting for me to tell him that I'd... I don't know.

That maybe I'd leave and disappear and all of his problems would go away.

That he would never have to deal with anything named 'Friedrich' again.

“You fucking stand at attention when in my presence” he screamed, ordering me to stand up. His face showed nothing but...

I don't even know how to describe the way it looked. Even if I could, I'd rather not.

All I could do was lose all control of my emotions and start sobbing uncontrollably as I held the back of my head and ran.

I struggled to push myself off the ground, my knees weak. As I rose up, he glared at me. I couldn't fucking look at him.

His angered voice grew close to me, and suddenly he had me by the collar of my shirt. He pulled me close and stared into my eyes.

“Don't EVER fucking come near me again, understand?” he said. His voice sounded like he was about to explode. 

I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw a tear coming down from his eye. 

He shoved me back, and I was pretty sure that through the blurred vision of my tears I saw him raise his fist. As I felt myself start to lose all control over my emotions and tears stream down my cheeks, I turned and ran. I ran as fast as I physically could away.

I wanted to run out of the fucking campus. Out of the City. But I could only run to my room and shut myself in, so I did.

Half an hour later, I stepped through my doorway and  into my room. Wiping tears from my face, I looked around; my room was the usual bare cave it always was.

What had I fucking done?

All of this heartache. 

All of this pain. 

All of this torture...

And for what in return?

It was like I was in a movie... that I had lost all control over my life. What agency did I even have at this point?

In a sudden fit of rage, I kicked a nearby chair and watched it fly across the room.

“For THIS?” I cried out. 

I collapsed to my knees, completely broken down .

“God, what did I do to be abandoned like this...?”

I don't know how long I laid there crying, but I knew it was for awhile. All I could think of were ways to get out. None of them would work; they'd find me eventually.

I wanted to keep crying, but I couldn't. All of my tears had been used up. All that was left was that dry heaving you sometimes make when you've completely broken down but your body just can't handle it anymore.

“What did I do...?”


	16. Chapter 16

Peace was something I've never really had in my life. At least, not since I was a kid.  


These past few years have been a shining example of that; all of the shit that's happened, from my parents practically disowning me to my coming to the academy and going through a hundred years worth of hazing in less than one, to what happened with Erik and now all this. 

There just... comes a point where you can't take it anymore, you know?

Making my decision to go through with it was surprisingly easy; all I had to do was think logically. 

In the past few years, the following good things have happened;

None.

In the same span of time, the following bad things have happened; I've been disowned by my parents for simply trying to tell them more about myself and be honest with them. I've been hazed more in a single year than most deal with in a hundred, I've been put in a medical ward four times and a hospital once, and I've gone to court for over a hundred days dealing with what happened with Erik.

And now, this with Albrecht. 'Commander', as he ordered me to refer to him as.

You've got to understand what that night meant to me. You've got to understand where I was coming from. Everything had seemingly built up to that night; it was like the world was sending me through shitty event after shitty event all building up to some grand “exchange” of karma. That I had gone through enough bad stuff to finally get something good in return.

That... if there were some karma store out there somewhere in the heavens, I could turn in all of the points I'd earned for a relationship with him. 

But it... it didn't work out like that, I guess.

I guess life doesn't work out like that.

Awhile ago I said that I believed firmly that there are those in our world that exist purely to teach others lessons, and furthermore that there are those that lose their soulmates somewhere along the way and are left alone for the rest of their lives.

I guess I have an uncanny ability to predict my own future.

That night had honestly meant the world to me. It was like... like this great release of pressure, tension, pain and misery. It was like all of those negative emotions were expelled from my body and filled with feelings of confidence, comfortableness, and the like.

The feeling of Albrecht's arms around my body just... I don't know. I've always known that I wasn't the dominant one in a relationship; that despite all of the facades of strength and stoicism that I put up, that I needed someone who made me feel safe. The nights after my successful boxing matches were the worst; coming off of the high of winning, I knew I needed someone to be there with me to hold me tighter than ever.

I knew I couldn't last alone for much longer months ago. I guess that night with Albrecht gave me hope that things would get better, but that altercation on the sidewalk, it just... killed everything in me.

I had made my decision, and for the first time in maybe years, I was at peace.

“Alright, I'll just need you to sign here” the officer said, handing me a pen and a long sheet of legal paper that had various numbers and other signatures on it.

“Where do I sign?” I questioned, looking at the innumerable empty boxes.

“You'll be taking...” he paused “ah, here we go, number forty seven.”

I nodded, signing on the line next to number 47.

“And when do I need to return it?”

“Three days. Whens your firing exam?”

“Two days from now. So I'll return it after my exam.”

“Perfect. Just make sure to clean it properly”

“Ofcourse” I nodded, watching as he pulled a shining silver pistol out of a large locked metal cabinet. A small paper tag with the number “47” hung from where the trigger was, attached with a piece of twine. He set the pistol on the counter and pushed it towards me while he rummaged through a box in search of something.

“Lets see... no...no...no...here we go!” he excitedly remarked, pulling out a clip and setting it down on the table.

“You've seven rounds in that, but the firing range will supply you with as many more as you need.”

“Do I need to return the clip reloaded?”

“No, we'll do that.”

I nodded, taking the clip and putting it in the same tunic pocket that I'd slipped the pistol in while he wasn't looking.

“Do you need anything else from me?” I questioned as I passed him back the paper and pen.

I watched as he scanned the paper, remarking “no...no... you're good to go!” 

I nodded, smiling politely as I walked out of the armory and across the school grounds towards my dorm room.

There was no exam.

I don't think he'd want the gun back after I used it, either.

I was finally at peace; I knew what I wanted to do. I had planned everything out, and so far it was going the way it was supposed to; all I needed was to get back to my room, lock my door, and...

Well... you know...do it.

I had mulled over the thought of leaving a note behind, but I think I was naive in thinking I needed to. It took me until about halfway through writing the thing to remember that there was no one that would miss me. I think that realization was what really pushed me over the edge and forced me to make my decision.

In truth, there really wasn't anyone. My parents had disowned me, my friends from the past abandoned me, my friends now would soon follow suit.

There was no point in leaving a letter for no one. The only people who would care would be the medics who'd arrive to try and stop the blood flow (which wouldn't be possible, I'd be D.O.A on purpose) and the investigator who'd try to piece together why I'd done what I'd done.

If they even asked an investigator to look into it. There wasn't really anyone that would want answers besides the schools' registrar so she could take me off the attendance list.

Maybe my being gone would cause some calm to descend upon the madness that went on here.

It wasn't likely.

I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, the cold silver pistol sitting in my lap. I found myself running my fingers across it time and time again, before slowly pulling the clip out and sliding it into place.

Click.

I sighed, wiping tears away from the wells of my eyes as I struggled to pull the top of the gun back to put it into a loaded position. 

Snap.

It was ready.

I wasn't, though.

Not yet.

I found myself sitting there, my hand that held the gun trembling, as I kept running over my life time and time again. I had gone through so much... for so little.

Why?

Was it so much to ask for a life that wasn't trying as hard as possible to get me to kill myself every day?

Why couldn't I just have... one nice experience?

Why couldn't I go to the beach one last time?

That was my dream after all... it wasn't much. I didn't want to be wealthy, I didn't want to be powerful, I didn't want to be famous.

All I fucking wanted was to smell the air that wafted from the sea foam into the coast one last time...

I found myself sobbing uncontrollably as I stood up and walked across my room, stopping at my desk and picking up a pad of paper. It was like my body was forcing me to do something that my mind didn't know about.

Before I knew it, I was penning a suicide note.

I could hardly read my own handwriting, and the tears that kept pouring down my cheeks continually blurred the ink on the yellow lined paper.

“Commander Albrecht,

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for everything I put you through because of that night. I'm sorry that you felt like you had to cut yourself off from me and act in the way you did. I know it wasn't your fault, perhaps it wasn't even what you wanted to do, but you did it because you had no choice, and I can't forgive myself for that.”

My hand shook violently as I tried to continue writing, having to take a break for a moment before continuing.

“I don't want you to ever feel the way you told me you felt. I don't want you to worry for the rest of your life that someone out that has something on you that could ruin your career, your family, or anything else.”

I had lost all control of my emotions and couldn't really see through my tear-blurred vision.

“I guess I did what I did because I was desperate for someone who actually showed some interest in me. I guess I was desperate for someone to actually see value in me, and I'm sorry that it had to be you. I honestly didn't mean to do any harm by what happened that night. I just....”

I paused, wiping the tears from my eyes

“I just lost everything, and just... desperately wanted something for even any amount of time. Something to make me feel human again, something that made me feel like I actually had some value outside of my boxing skills for the school. I didn't want to be just a prize-earner and trophy-collector, I wanted to be something to someone...

And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry. I...

I'm sorry. Though I can never repay you for how that night made me feel, I'm sorry that it ever happened. I should never have put my own feelings above others. 

Some people are just meant to teach other people lessons, I guess. I guess I'm someone's lesson. I just don't know who.

Albrecht...Commander...You have a bright future ahead of you. Brighter than anyone I've ever met in my life. In the short time I've gotten to know you, you've been nothing but kind and friendly when you weren't pushed to do things that you shouldn't have done with someone who has no value. You're strong, loyal, stoic, and you know where you're headed in life. There may be some bumps in the road, but you'll get there, and when you get there you'll be the best damn man for the job. 

I just hope that you can forgive me and find peace sometime in your life, because I never did, and I don't want anyone to ever have to feel the way I did. I felt that pain every day from the day I realized who I was on the inside, and I don't wish that pain on anyone, not my greatest opponents, not even Erik.”

“What did I do to deserve a life so painful?” I muttered out loud between my tears. 

“Tell Coach Edgar I'm sorry. He'll just have to find someone to train. Maybe Sven, he's got a few years before he's our age and is more than capable of getting there. He just needs to be guided.

I want you to understand this isn't your fault. Its just a combination of everything thats happened in the  past year coming together. I've been contemplating this for so long, I just finally got the nerve to do it tonight. For the first time since I discovered my sexuality, I don't feel lost anymore. Everythings just... numb, I guess.

Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

At least its finally for a good reason. You'll never have to worry about loose ends from me. By the time you get this letter, I'll be long gone and in line at the gates of hell. I hope you could read this letter alright; though I'm calm and sure of my decision, it killed me to have to write all of this down on paper. I just... lost control, like I did that night you and I...

I'm sorry.

I know its a lot to ask, but if you ever find the spare time in your life, would you pray for me?

Wholeheartedly yours,  
Friedrich Weimer.”

I ripped the sheet of paper from the pad and folded it over itself a few times before sticking it in my pocket. I waited a few minutes to pull myself together before stepping out of my doorway and walking down the long hallway, quickly jogging down the flights of stairs and running out the front door.

My feet carried me across the campus grounds quickly, my boots brushing through the well-manicured green grass, the sound of my leather boots against the night's dew filling the air. The campus was lit beautifully this time of night; the large, glass lanterns that sat atop their poles lined every sidewalk and illuminated them in this clear, white light that couldn't be duplicated anywhere else but our campus.

It was strange; I was at peace; morose, but at peace. More so than I had been in such a long time. As I rushed up the innumerable flights of stairs that eventually lead to the top floor of his building, I couldn't help but focus on where I was going after this. I knew what suicide meant for the afterlife; Valhalla wouldn't take people who took the easy way out.

I guess I would have to live in the afterlife with the decisions I'd made here.

As I walked down the long hallway and towards Albrecht’s door, I tried my hardest not to look at the tape covering Siegfried's door. I missed him so fucking much. He was like the glue that kept my life together, and now that he was gone, it all had fallen apart. 

I squinted down the hallway and look at Albrecht’s guard; he seemed to be looking towards me, though as I finally reached the door I found him to be simply staring forward.

“Can I... slip this note under his door?” I asked hesitantly. His guard looked over and me and then down to the folded yellow paper in my hand that I held out.

“I can give it to him when he gets back.” his voice stated coldly. He reached his hand out, and I put the note in his open palm, before turning around and walking away.

I don't know what got over me, but I found myself walking the campus grounds for what was at least a half an hour, taking the extremely long way back to my dorm building. I think I needed some time to cool down and re-orient myself so I could actually go through with this.

As I reached my dorm building, I seemed calm again. I wasn't crying and wasn't shaking; I was just... calm.

I walked up the three flights of stairs to my floor, and passed the innumerable doors before finding my room; #12. I opened the door and stepped through, closing the door behind me and locking the lock on the doorknob so as to not be disturbed until it was over.

I slowly walked over to the edge of my bed and picked up the pistol, holding it in my hand and slowly getting to know every part of it. It wasn't long before I took a deep breath and decided I needed to go through with it. I went through everything, making sure it was clean, making sure it was properly loaded, making sure it wouldn't jam.

I sighed heavily, raising the pistol up under my chin, the barrel parallel with my neck. 

“I'm sorry...” I muttered out, tears flowing down my cheeks.

“I'm so sorry” I shook. My last thought was supposed to be of Albrecht and how much I regretted having done what I'd done with him. Not because it wasn't right, but because of what it had caused after that. Because that moment of pure bliss had been the catalyst for my life collapsing even more.

My brain teased me, replaying the image of Albrecht shoving me to the ground, my head slamming into the concrete.

It was that painful moment. As my brain played the feeling of the back of my head hitting the cold slate sidewalk pavers once again, I tilted the pistol up and pulled the trigger.


	17. Chapter 17

My name is Albrecht Stein, though I think you already know who I am.

I'd like to begin our relationship with honesty, mostly because its not something I've been known for in my life. I've made quite a few mistakes; I'm no perfect child, no perfect royal, no perfect lover. I've caused innumerable problems for too many people, but never like what I caused for Friedrich. I caused him so much pain, and it all came back on me that Saturday night.

Friedrich...

There's no excuse for what I did. All I can try and do is explain why I did what I did, and hope that you can forgive me. That afternoon in the courtyard, I made the single greatest mistake of my life. I ruined in less than ten minutes what I had worked months to get, all because of fear. I was terrified.

I was terrified of what would happen between us; not that something romantic would ensue, no, that was exactly what I wanted, but I was scared for...

I'm sorry, its just hard to explain how I felt. Perhaps I was terrified of the looks people would give him; people would spread vicious rumors, people would seek to hurt him more than ever. I could hear the hushed conversations in hallways already; 'Him? With the Crown Prince? Surely he must have something on him...'

Friedrich didn't deserve all of the shit he'd been put through in his life, especially not the inexcusable amount of violence directed at him ever since he went to the police about Erik months ago. Ever since the word began to spread that not only had Friedrich and Erik been together, but that he'd had Erik thrown in jail for something that happened between them, he'd been tortured mercilessly. Day after day he'd be put through beatings, hazing, innumerable taunts, and much more. 

He'd been spit at, beaten up, chided and abandoned; all for trying to defend himself. Kicked, punched, hair pulled, and more. His locker in the washroom had been broken into over a dozen times, his room destroyed twice, and probably more things I didn't know about. 

He kept most of the stuff that happened to him on the inside, but these few things he'd let out in the months between him first sitting at our lunch table and now. There were over a dozen people at all seemed to hate him so intensely, just for being who he was. All for going to the police in order to prevent what was done to him from being done to anyone else by Erik.

I'm sorry, I went off-topic, I know.

I can never forgive myself for doing what I did to him in the courtyard. I keep pussy-footing around with the reason that I did what I did; I know exactly why.

I wanted to scare him off.

I wanted to scare him the fuck away from me because I wasn't sure if I was ready for the relationship, and didn't want to hurt him. The irony, right?

The irony in not wanting to hurt him but feeling the anger swell in my gut, forcing its way through my veins and into my arms, shoving him to the ground..

Fuck. I keep seeing him losing his balance when I pushed him and hearing that fucking sound of his skull hitting that slate over and over again...

I could practically feel it myself.

All I wanted to do was scream out “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!” and pull him to his feet. I wanted to hold him tighter than ever and apologize and admit that I was just being an asshole, that I was scared and worried that I'd hurt him or someone else would hurt him if our relationship moved forward. That I wanted him so desperately.

I wanted to pull him back up and kiss him in front of the entire school; if I outed myself like that in front of everyone, there'd be no going back, right?

Then at least I'd be forced to proudly hold his hand in public. To be able to walk down the street, smiling at the paparazzi cameras snatching photos of us together. I wanted something with him so desperately, but was so immobilized by my upbringing that I just...

I ruined everything...

I had it all; I had him lying on his back on my bed consequentially making out with me for half an hour, despite the fact that I was higher than the blue mountains, despite the fact that my breath probably reeked of whiskey. His heart was practically in my hand; It was the most passionate, hungry kiss I'd ever felt. He seemed to pour everything out into that night; the way his arms found their way around my neck and his fingers ran through my hair. The way he ran the side of his foot slowly up and down the side of my calf... it was so much like a dream that the next morning I couldn't believe it had happened; it was only when Willy asked me how my night was with Friedrich with a cheeky grin that I realized it had actually occurred.

That it wasn't a dream, that it was simply just like one. That everything I had wanted had come to fruition.

It had validated [b][u]everything.[/u][/b]

And then I fucking destroyed it.

I crushed it to pieces in less than five minutes because, on the inside, I was still a little boy who couldn't handle commitment. A boy who was too scared that he might hurt the person he was falling for that he ended up hurting him more in the process of trying to scare him off.

I fucking took the golden challis that I'd been fucking given by god and slammed it into the ground, crushing it to pieces. And after that, despite all of the regret, despite all of the pain, I was too scared of how long it would take to pick up the pieces and put them back together that I wouldn't even bend down and begin the process.

I think it was the Saturday after that that things came to a proverbial head; I had spent the past three days playing tour-guide, drinking buddy and friend to a group of Americans whom had come to visit and see what our Academies were like. They were fucking exhausting me. 

“I don't fucking understand how they can drink that much, Christoph!” I declared as I stepped out of my chauffeured car, closing the door behind me as I looked his way.

He held the side of his head and groaned as he nodded in agreement; “My fucking head hurts”

“Yeah, from trying to crush fourteen empty beer cans on your forehead!” I whipped back, laughing at his pain. All he could do was groan, though he did give off a bit of a smile. 

I watched as the slick, black Mercedes SUV circled around once before pulling out of the parking lot in  the front of the school. I looked over at Christoph and watched as he walked towards me.

“Fuckin drunks...” he muttered. All I could do was smile, despite everything that was on my mind.

We started our walk across the campus, first checking back in at the guard-post at the gate before wandering the long sidewalks for a decent amount of time chatting, eventually getting back to our dorm building. 

“You wanna stop by my room for a drink?” I joked, watching as he glared intensely at me. 

“I'll take that as a no then! You're still coming over though.” I laughed, though he didn't seem to find it all that funny.

We walked the rest of our way to our down building in silence, the only sounds were our boots clicking against the slate and the occasional noise of Christoph's paper bag from the department store hitting the side of his leg. I swung the large wooden door of our dorm building opened and began the trek up to the top floor, trying to maintain the semblance of happiness I'd had that day.

I hadn't thought about Friedrich much that day; I was distracted, I suppose. Those American guys were fascinated with everything about the Academy, Konigsberg, and really our culture as a whole. I guess they'd taken a big dose of culture-shock walking through the tunnel from the airplane and into a massive airport built of marble and granite. I smiled widely at their faces as they got into the open-topped limousine and we drove down the long, main avenue through the city, huge flags waving on each side of the road. 

“Its just those pictures they showed us in class” I remember one of them, I think named Mason, remarked.

I was half-way down the hallway headed towards my room before Christoph mounted the final stair and started following me down the hallway. As I reached the door, I smiled at my guard, Wilhelm, and spoke to him.

“How were things, Willy?”

“They were fine, sir.” He replied, turning to me. I smiled, nodding as I held my wallet with the pass-card in it up to the sensor and waited for the long beep that would unlock the door. A few moments later, I had the door open and was about to step into my room as Willy spoke up again.

“Oh, Sir!” he declared, seemingly looking through his pockets for something.

“Hmm?” I questioned, looking at him curiously.

“Someone left a...there it is. Someone left a note for you” He remarked, searching his pockets until he pulled out what seemed to be a thrice-folded piece of yellow lined paper.

“Alright, do you know what its about?”

“No, I didn't ask.”

“Who left it?”

“Uh” he seemed to be trying to remember “One of your friends.”

I nodded, taking the paper and slipping it into the pocket of my tunic as I stepped through the door and walked into my room. Behind me walked Christoph, whom set his department-store bag down on the cherry-wood coffee table and slumped down into one of the reclining chairs.

“Soda?” I questioned. 

“Sure” he groaned, rubbing his hands against his face. 

I walked over to the fridge on the side of my living room and cracked it open, pulling out two Pepsis before walking back over to him. I dropped it in his lap and found my way over to my air-conditioner, cracking the temperature down even more.

“Getting hot out there” I remarked, cracking open my soda.

“It is June” he replied tiredly. I watched as he started to unbutton his tunic, and I followed suit, tossing it on the back of the couch before taking a seat. I unbuttoned my dress shirt and balled it up, setting it down on the couch next to me.

“So” he piped up, looking towards me. “Hows that whole thing with Friedrich going?”

I froze, sighing as I looked through him. I didn't want to fucking talk about that right now.

“Its.. going.” I managed to get out.

“Any progress? You two go out on a date yet?”

“No. I don't really think we're meant to be together.”

He fell silent, looking at me confused. 

“Thats a big turn around from where you were with him a week ago. Something up?”

I looked at him and just sighed.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

He shrugged me off and took a long swing from his can before pulling out his phone and started texting. Soon enough, I followed suit.

About ten minutes later, Christoph spoke up;

“So what was that note about?”

“Oh, thats right, forgot about that” I remarked. I pulled my jacket down onto my lap and pulled the paper out from its pocket before unfolding it. 

It started with 'Commander Albrecht', and I could feel my heart drop from my ribs down into my gut. The handwriting was articulate and recognizable, but it seemed rushed. The ink was splotched innumerable times, like it had been held out under a rainstorm for a minute or two, and the paper had that distinct feeling of having dried off over time rather than hastily.

As I slowly read the letter, my heart began to shatter. I could feel everything in my body begin to give in; first my leg started to bounce up and down, then my hand started to shake as if I were an old man with Parkinson's, then my whole gut started to rattle.

“You have no reason to be sorry” I let out. I could feel Christoph's uneasy gaze, looking on me curiously at first, then worriedly as I continued down the letter.

Why did Friedrich write me all of this? Why was -he- sorry? It wasn't his fault, it was mine for fucks sake. I was the one who tried to scare -him- off, I was the one that pushed -him- over and could have killed him if his head landed a slightly different way, not the other way around for christ's sake.

I could feel my heart cracking more and more at every word I read.

“Why would I tell Coach Edgar you're sorry? Why can't you...?” I questioned. I looked up and watched as Christoph rose, walking over to me and standing by my side, reading the letter.

I wanted to hide it, but my hands just couldn't stop shaking.

What the hell was this about Friedrich? None of this was your fault!

I was about half-way down the letter when I think it finally hit me what this was;

A fucking suicide note.

“No...” I let out quietly, reading over the same line time and time again. I hadn't noticed that in the time between when I started to read the note and now, Drew had shown up in my room. By the time I did notice, he too was craning his head to peer over and read the letter my hands could barely hold onto.

“Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead....?” Drew spoke out questioningly, not understanding what it meant.

“Whats that mean?” He inquired.

I couldn't fucking say it.

I just fucking couldn't. 

My breath grew heavy and irregular.

My head started to play all of the times we spent together over and over again like a movie screen, flipping through scene after scene. The time he desperately needed help on his rifle exam and I cheated to help him; it wasn't like it was much, it was just a simple step he'd forgotten, and it was probably my fault. I could tell he was put off by my wanting to sit next to him.

I just... thought it was a sign that he liked me and was uncomfortable because he wasn't sure how he'd act. I thought it meant that he wanted to watch himself so he'd look good in front of me. I didn't want him to act like that, but at the time I wasn't ready to reveal my emotions.

I wasn't even ready that night I got drunk and high and made out with him, but it was a huge sigh of relief when it finally happened. I didn't have to hide things anymore.

At least, that's what the 'high and drunk' me wanted. Not the sober part.

All those times when I'd stand by the ring watching him practice, his strength finally having a place to express himself. He was so fucking strong despite everything he'd been through, but so gentle when he wasn't in the ring...

That time we went up in the glider together; the way Siegfried distracted him long enough so that he'd end up at the end of the line and have no one to go up with but me. The way I ran those lines over and over again in my head when I knew the instructor would question why I was going up a second time.

That feeling when the wind 'shifted' and I was 'forced' to wrap my arms around him out of fear.

It wasn't fear. It was my heart seizing control for a moment and forcing me onto him. When I grabbed onto him, he held his breath and his heart rate went wild. I could see how wide he was smiling, but my brain took the controls back and made me pull off of him. I even let out the stupidest fucking lie I'd ever told; Don't tell my Girlfriend.

My girlfriend? What fucking girlfriend? I was about as gay as they came, at least here in Alte-Koniggratz. I wasn't the pride parade type, but I still...

FUCK.

THIS IS A FUCKING SUICIDE NOTE.

I shot up from my chair and raced across the room, practically yanking it off its hinges as I blitzed through it and grabbed Willy, yanking him into my room by his jacket and taking him by complete surprise.

“What time did Friedrich give this to you?” I yelled, practically knocking him to the ground as I shook him by his shoulders. He looked surprised and rose his wrist to look at his watch, fumbling with the time.

“Uh...uh... an hour ago?” He stuttered.

“FUCK” I screamed, looking over at Drew and Christoph, whom were in complete shock.

“What? What??” Drew questioned, looking at me exasperated.

“He's going to fucking kill himself!” I screamed. “All because of me! All because of the fucking stupid shit I'd done!”

“What did you do?” Christoph looked exasperatedly at me.

“I fucking tried to scare him off, I screamed at him and pushed him to the ground and told him it meant nothing to me and that I didn't want to see him ever again, and now he's going to fucking kill himself!”

“You WHAT?” Drew yelled back, rushing over to grab the note from me. He tried to pry it from my hands, but I just couldn't let go. I could feel every ounce of control I'd had over my body being drained out and I yelled at the letter, praying it somehow got back to him.

“I didn't mean it, I didn't fucking mean it Friedrich! I just... I was opening myself up to you and didn't want you to be disappointed!”

The fucking Irony.

I didn't want to hurt him. So instead, I drove him to suicide.

What kind of fucking Prince was I supposed to be? The Prince of Terror?

“He might not have done it yet” Christoph chimed up, starting to run out the door.

I don't think I'd run faster in my entire life. I practically jumped down eleven flights of stairs and slammed through the door of the building, racing towards his dorm building.

“Please no” I muttered out, trying to fight back the tears that were inevitably winning. I was across the campus and at the building I knew was his within a matter of minutes. I don't know how I even remembered what his room number was, but I was relatively sure it was #12. I raced past door after door, trying to find his room.

Where the fuck was it?

Why can't I fucking count properly?

No, that's number twenty two, you passed it you fucking jackass.

I raced back down the hallway again; 20, 18, 16, 14, 12.

12.

His room.

I stopped in front of it, my body freezing in place.

What if this was it?

What if I opened the door and he was lying on his bed, an empty bottle of pills lying next to him?

What if I swung the door open and ran through his room unable to find him, only to turn around and him him hanging by a noose from the back of the door?

What if... what if he slit his wrists? What if I found him lying in a pool of blood...?

I started to sob uncontrollably as I slammed my fists on his door, trying to talk through it.

“Friedrich, please, don't do it, please!”

I didn't care if I caught people's attention. It was Saturday anyway, there shouldn't really be anyone around.

Friedrich was always the only one around his building at this time on a weekend.

“Please” I cried out, finding myself slumping to my knees as I slammed my fists on his door. “Please, I didn't mean it!”

Drew and Christoph were both around me trying to force the door open as I slowly rose to my feet. I kept backing up and running sideways into the door to try and force it open.

“Friedrich, don't fucking do it!” Drew tried yelling through the keyhole.

“Can you see him?”

“Its too dark”

Then, suddenly, there was the distinct sound of a gunshot from his bedroom.

“NO!” I cried out. My knees turned limp, and I collapsed down onto them, all the color from my face washing away.

“He's gone...” I muttered between the dry heaving of my sobbing

“You fucking BASTARD!” Drew screamed, kicking the door.,

Everything slowed; my tears still rained down from my cheeks, my dry heaving still continued, but it all seemed to happen at a much slower pace.

I had driven him to shoot himself...

All of the shit he'd been through... 

All of the shit that I had put him through. All of the lies I'd told myself that he'd be better off without me. All of the platitudes I'd spewed trying to drive him off and keep myself from cracking...

“Men in Alte-Koniggratz don't cry”

“You lead, and sometimes leaders must choose to send people to their death”

“Men make history, but we make the men”

My body just... gave up, including my head. The walls that I'd built to protect myself from this sort of thing had crumbled to pieces.

I had been such a fucking pussy that I'd driven him to fucking shoot himself...

I'd never get to see him again. I'd never get to hear his voice, his unmistakable laugh, his unusually witty sense of humor. 

I'd never hear his boxing stories again.

I'd never get to cheer him on as he stood up for himself in the ring and beat his problems out on his opponents fair and square, instead of having to target them outside with a numerical advantage, like they did to him.

His deep, blue eyes that looked like warm pools of water.

He'd just... disappear into the potter's ground.

No trumpets. No honorary parade, no kettle drums. No wreaths.

I don't know what came over me, but I rose up suddenly, raising my leg and kicking the door straight where the knob was, and watched as the door flew open, the knob half-broken. 

I rushed in, the other two following behind me. I don't know what I expected.

Blood everywhere, most likely. Maybe his brains splattered across the back wall. 

I frantically ran my hand against the wall searching for the light and soon flipped it on, desperately looking across the room.

Sitting motionless on the bed was Friedrich’s body. 


	18. Chapter 18

But there were no pills, and there was no blood.

“Friedrich...”

He was breathing, though heavily. He and I made eye contact, and I could feel my heart jump as he looked straight up at me.

“Get out of here!” He suddenly screamed. His movements were erratic, his face was filled with an angered expression, and I could practically feel his piercing gaze on me. His ice-blue eyes sent a chill down my spine.

Despite all of that, he was still alive.

I watched as he raised the pistol back up under his neck and screamed once again.

“Get OUT!” he screamed, “You're not supposed to fucking be here!”

I stepped forward with my hand out, and just as I did there was another distinct gunshot. It was muffled, not as loud as a normal shot, but it was noticeable. I stared across at him, and watched as he lowered the gun from under his chin, looking down at it desperately. There was a distinct burn mark running from his Adams-apple up his neck and under his chin.

“What the fuck...” he muttered.

I didn't ask questions, I just ran forward and jumped on his bed to try and wrestle the gun from him.  

“Let GO! Just let me fucking go!” He cried out

“I didn't fucking mean it” I pleaded, pulling on the barrel of the pistol as hard as I physically could. 

“You have no fucking right” he yelled back, trying to fight my hands off of the gun. I didn't care what he did, he couldn't do this.

He looked at me frantically, trying to hold on, but he was losing his grasp.

“Why can't you even give me this?” he pleaded. Tears were streaming down both of our faces.

'Don't lose it yet. Wait for the gun to be gone, then you can break down' I had to remind myself.

“You can't even let me have this?” his voice begged. The wells of his eyes were flushed red and tears streamed down his face, pooling at the edges before falling to the sheets below him.

“Please...” he whispered; I could tell he was losing his strength. The pistol started to edge closer to my side of the bed than his, his hands shaking violently.

“I made a mistake” I pleaded. “I was a fucking pussy, I couldn't handle it, but I want you more than you can imagine. I said what I said because I was fucking scared, but I'm not scared anymore”

He just stared at me, his eyes that previously seemed hard as ice started to melt, now like icebergs floating in the night sea.

“I'm just scared of losing you” my voice cracked as I pleaded with him. His hands started to slip, and as I stared deep into his eyes, the pistol finally fell from his grasp. I held it in my hand for a moment, maintaining my watch on Friedrich as I pressed the latch and the clip dropped to the bed we both were sat on.

I watched as he looked down at the clip, picking it up with his hands. 

“Blanks...?” he muttered.

I threw the pistol across his room, listening as it hit his dresser.

“Not even god will let me be happy...”

I ran my hand up and down the leg of his uniform pants, trying to ease him out of what he was in.

“You had no right....” he muttered

“I'm sorry” I returned quietly.

“You had no fucking RIGHT” he suddenly yelled, rising up from his bed and jumping down to the floor below. I looked over in surprise, and swung my legs off his bunk before standing in front of him.

I went to reach out and take his hand in mine, but he pulled back, looking up from the ground.

“I didn't-”

His eyes seemed harder than ever.

“And now you're standing in front of me acting like you just saved the day?” 

“No, no, I-”

“Quit fucking acting like you and I have been together for five years, because we fucking haven't!” his voice spat poison.

“I-”

“You treat me like fucking garbage in private then come in here to look like a hero in front of your friends?” he shot.

I didn't have a response for him; I wanted to say something, but I couldn't; I was too ashamed. All I could do was let my shoulders slump and look down at the floor as he chided me.

“Fucking say something you cocksucker” his irate voice demanded. 

I just couldn't say anything.

It was like a bolt from the blue; before I knew what was going on, his fist was already primed and flying. I didn't even have the chance to raise my hands to defend myself.

I probably wouldn't have even if I could.

His fist slammed straight into my jaw and his knuckles ran across my mouth. I practically spun to the side with the force of the hit, and as I grabbed my jaw in pain, he let out what sounded like a laugh. He hit so hard that I felt like my jaw was about to come unhinged, ripples of pain trailing through my head and down my body.

“AY!” Drew yelled. I could see Drew and Christoph running forward, probably going to grab Friedrich.

I couldn't let them get between him and I; this was something I had to deal with.

“NO!” I yelled at them, watching them freeze in place.

“Don't fucking get involved!”

I turned to Friedrich, watching as he stood in a defensive position, expecting a hit back from either me or the other two behind me.

I righted my position, and opened my arms. 

“Do your worst.”

He looked me up and down, as if he were reading an opponent, and shook his head.

“You've got to defend yourself” his voice said; it seemed to carry an almost foreign chill to it; like the Friedrich in there had been broken down and a different him took its place.

“I have the right, but I don't have to use it.” I asserted. I gestured him to hit me again.

“Go ahead.”

He stepped forward, his hand balled into a fist. I knew what was coming.

Punch after punch flew into my body, first into my stomach, then into my sides, and then directly into my ribs. It hurt at first, but after the first few punches it seemed to even out. I couldn't tell if he was hitting with full force anymore; I knew he had when he'd hit me in the jaw.

I remembered something he'd said to me a long time ago, on the matter of boxing and fighting;

“You don't hit someone in the face unless its personal.”

He had a right to make this personal, considering everything I'd put him through. My willingly ignoring all of the shit he was going through.

He kept going, punch after punch, swing after swing. After what felt like an eternity, I looked over to Drew and Christoph. They were pleading with me to let them stop him, but I shook my head. The gentle Friedrich was gone, replaced with one filled with anger and whose years of agony had finally cracked his heart to pieces, and the final blow had been from me; someone he thought he could trust; it was my fault.

He had shared so much of his personal life with me, and I had effectively turned around and socked him in the face.

All of a sudden, the punches stopped. I could hear heavy breathing close to me.

A hand gripped my shoulder.

“You've got to defend yourself, Commander.” it spat into my ear.

“Don't fucking call me that” I wheezed. “I don't deserve that much respect”

Every part of my body was in severe pain, and yet it started to go numb, as if-

Suddenly, a knee slammed into my crotch. As I slumped to the floor in agony, my eyes made contact with his; he watched me go down, but he didn't have a smile on his face. I thought I saw his expression break as I was halfway down.

“Dude, What the fu-” Christoph let out, though I interrupted him before he could finish.

“I told you not to get involved in this!” my voice cracked as I grabbed at my groin.

“I-”

“Get out!” I yelled at them both, my voice trailing away.

“Fuck that-”

“I said get the fuck out!”

They stood there frozen for a moment, before Drew pulled Christoph through the doorway and they closed it behind them.

I could hear a fist hitting what sounded like thick wood over and over again, and what sounded like crying. Despite all of the pain, I pushed myself up and looked over to find Friedrich mid-way through sliding down to the ground against his dresser. He was sobbing into his hands.

I pushed myself forward, crawling across the slick wooden floor. I could feel blood pooling from my lip down my chin and dripping onto the floor below me. I crawled towards Friedrich, though I couldn't bare to even look at him. I was so fucking ashamed of what I'd done.

'I almost fucking killed him'

I reached him after a while, but he was still slumped in a fetal position crying. I pushed myself up against the wooden dresser and sat up next to him, but couldn't bare to pull my head up and look at him.

All I could do was sneak my hand through his closed posture and grip his hand, pulling it out from his cocoon and pulling it closer to me before squeezing it tightly.

I could hear him start to sniffle, the heaving of his cries starting to slow.

“I can't say sorry enough” I spoke out, my voice shaking with every word.

We sat there in quiet for a while. I wanted to look at him so badly, but every time I tried to raise my head I just... couldn't. I was too ashamed.

“What did I do?” his voice questioned, breaking the silence.

I tried to answer, but I just couldn't.

It was quiet for awhile, before he spoke again, this time his voice sounded agitated.

“What did I fucking to you to earn that shove?” his voice demanded explanation, but I couldn't, all I could do was wince at his angered expression.

Suddenly his hand broke from mine.

“huh?” he whispered close to my head. I winced again.

“I...” I tried to explain, but as I tried to find the words, nothing seemed to come out.

Suddenly, he shoved me away and onto my back. Within seconds, he was sat atop me slamming fists into my stomach, sides, and ribs once again. 

“I need a fucking explanation” he begged. I couldn't.

A punch went straight into my side, knocking me over and onto my back

“Why did you do it?” he screamed.

Another punch, this time to the left side of my body where my ribs lay.

“Fucking look at me!” he screamed. Suddenly his hand grabbed my chin and jaw and forced me to look at him, but I shut my eyes. I couldn't bare it.

Another punch, this time to my shoulder. I winced in pain, and for a moment my eyes opened; when they did, I couldn't close them anymore. My gaze was locked on Friedrich.

His face was flushed with color, though not the color of embarrassment, but rather the color of pain and emotion; a light red. Tears flowed from the wells of his eyes and across his face, falling down and landing on my white T-Shirt below him. His hand let go of my jaw and gripped my shoulder.

“You fucking asshole, I thought you cared!” he belted, his voice starting to lose its flair. 

“I thought...” he panted. “I thought you were different...”

His mouth shuttered, revealing he was about to lose it again, but after a moment he pulled himself together. As he sat above me, his legs split on both sides of my body, he stared down at me, almost begging for an answer. His eyes focused down on me, but they softened as time went by. The ice blue seemed to break, slowly fading back to their normal gaze.

“I...I...” I stuttered. His look gave off an almost begging expression, like he was pleading for me to say something. When I couldn't form the words, he started to rise up, standing next to me. It was as he took the first step away that I lurched forward, grabbing his leg and knocking him to the ground. We wrestled for a moment, and I tried to pin him to the ground, but I couldn't muster the strength. He sent fist after fist into my sides, and I finally tried to return them, but they were returned with exponentially less strength.

Soon after, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably into the wool of his tunic, my face pressed firmly into his breast pocket. I desperately wrapped my arms around him, snaking them between his back and the wooden floor, to keep him from going anywhere. He tried to fight me off at first, but before long I could feel his arms around me, and could hear his quiet cries.

We lay there in each others arms for what felt like hours. Before long, I could feel one of his hands slowly running through my hair, and it seemed to soothe the pain.

A few minutes later, I slowly broke my stranglehold on his body, and pushed myself off of him. He looked at me wearily as I sat up against his foot locker and wiped my hand across the space between my upper lip and my nose. He slowly pushed himself up and scooted closer to me, sitting with his knees up and his feet firmly against the floor. The tips of my boots and his feet touched each other, and he and I just... stared... for awhile.

He broke the silence a few minutes into our staring contest.

“I...I need an explanation.” his voice wearily requested.

“I'm trying” I sat muttering, trying to find the right words.

How could I explain why I'd put him through what I put him through?

How could I explain my feelings?

What was I supposed to say?

I thought over the words for awhile as silence filled the room. From time to time, he'd glance up from his bloody knuckles and look at me longingly for an answer.

I had to fucking say something if I wanted to salvage anything out of this.

“I... I was scared.”

“Scared?”

I nodded slowly.

“I was scared of everything. I know how I feel, I know what I see in you, I know what I want... but after that night, I was... I was terrified. I kept playing the memories of you being beaten up by the pool or in the locker room over and over again, thinking that they would happen more often if people found out you and I did anything together, if you and I got together.”

I paused for a moment, breathing heavily. He didn't speak up.

“I was scared that I was opening myself up to something that was going to bite me in the end...”

He just shook his head.

“I want you so badly. You're everything I've ever wanted in someone. You're strong when you need to be but otherwise gentle, you've got a crazy sense of humor, you're smart as hell, but you're so fucking humble...”

I sighed. Everything I’d done to make myself look strong, to please my parents, to become the man my father wanted me to become, had bitten me back when it came to Friedrich. I wasn’t meant for this sort of stuff; I enjoyed poetry and great writers, not playing hard to get. I adored him...

“You're not like everyone else. You don't look at me like I'm the Prince, you look at me like I'm just another human being, just another person. Your feelings and attitudes around me aren't pretend, they're real”

I looked up and gazed into his eyes for a moment, before looking him over. Though he was clearly exhausted, his golden hair shimmered in the light, and his gaze seemed soft.

He licked his thumb and slowly extended it towards me, rubbing the blood from my lower lip. He pulled back and rubbed his hand into his pants and sighed.

“I'm sorry I hit you.”

“I deserved it.”

“No you didn't.”

“See? You're so fucking strong but you hate to use it anywhere but in the ring. It drives me crazy because you're so different from everyone here. You don't get kicks out of beating people up, you don't get bloodthirsty when shit happens. You're so fucking gentle...”

He just... looked at me. It was a soft gaze, but he kept his eyes on me.

“I... I just kept imagining all of the things people might say, people might do, to you, that I went crazy. I wanted to protect you from that and the only way I thought I could do that was by keeping you away. I wanted to scare you away so that you wouldn't get hurt, but in the process I...”

My voice shuttered, and I almost couldn't say it, but I forced it out.

“I almost killed you.”

We were both quiet for awhile.

“I can't... pretend that things are going to be the way they might have been had I not... done what I had done. But I'd...”

I found myself falling silent. I wanted to force it out, but I was too scared.

“You what..?” he asked longingly. 

“I... I want to try and pick up the pieces”

“You-”

“I know that its going to be hard. I know that you don't trust me anymore. I know that I'm going to have to prove every step of the way that I'm worth all of the bad shit that comes with me... all of the bad shit that I put you through...”

“I still trust you...” he muttered quietly.

“You do?” 

“I don't know why I do, but yes”

I nodded slowly, watching him as he seemed to look up at the ceiling.

“I just can't be happy, can I?” he said; it didn't seem to be directed towards me, but I replied anyway.

“I think you can be if you try”.

He looked at me and shook his head. We fell silent as I tried to find someone to say to combat his dismissive attitude.

“You're right, things aren't going to be like what they might have been had... had that not happened” he spoke up. 

“I just wish I could reset everything that happened after that night and start from there.” I said into my knees.

“But you can't.”

I nodded.

“We can't just go back to what happened. We're always going to have that afternoon and tonight in the back of our heads. There's always going to be that question of whether or not we can trust eachother, at least for awhile.”

I nodded, trying to hold back tears. This wasn't a video game; I couldn't just go back to the last save point. I had to deal with the damage that I had done.

He gave a small smile, and I couldn't help but give him one in return.

“But you're still alive, and as long as you are, I'm going to fight for... for us.” I said, looking him straight in the eyes. 

He didn't say anything in return.

“Are you... willing to give me a chance?” I questioned, looking at him almost pleadingly.

“I think you... realize now that there's a lot going on with me...”

I nodded slowly.

“This... this isn't just because of what happened. Its been coming for awhile.”

“I didn't help, though...”

“You still aren't the source of it.”

“We all have problems inside, it just takes a little help to-”

“It takes a Prince to fight the darkness” he joked, his mouth turning to a smile.

I could feel my face go flush with color, and he gave out a teasing laugh. After awhile, our smiles waned away.

“I've never... seen you like you were tonight...” He muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“You were always the posterboy of what it meant to be a Koniggratzer... Strong, charismatic, no signs of emotion...”

“I couldn't keep it in anymore. Not after I almost lost you.”

He nodded slowly.

“Its... its nice to know that that part of you does exist” he quietly spoke.

I nodded. The tips of my ears were on fire.

“You... you didn't answer my question...”

“I know.”


	19. Chapter 19

“I know” I said quietly, looking across at him.

I couldn't make my mind up. I was still in the middle of three emotions; depression, anger, and agony.

“Friedrich...” he said quietly. I looked at him, but he didn't continue. I watched as the blood from his lip continued to pool down his chin and drip onto the white shirt that covered his chest.

How was I supposed to forgive after everything he put me through? After he had my heart, my everything, then fucking destroyed it in the courtyard that afternoon? After he ripped away my last attempt at being happy by ending the pain once and for all?

I sighed heavily and looked up at him; his entire figure looked defeated and unguarded, even his typically well-styled brown hair had become completely disheveled. The mysterious figure that I'd fallen so hard for, then been crushed by, just sat there against my dresser and looked at me with no guard up at all.

How was I not supposed to forgive him? Or at least give him the chance he was begging me for?

This was the weakest I'd ever seen him, maybe even the weakest I'd ever seen anyone (save for myself) here at the academy. He had obviously regretted everything he'd done to me, right? Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now? Otherwise he wouldn't have just let me beat the shit out of him?

He wouldn't be sitting there begging me to give him another chance if he didn't mean it, right?

I shook my head as I sat there unable to make my mind up, not keeping eye contact with him. What was I supposed to say?

“Please...” his voice cracked, catching my attention. I looked up to find his hands folded together and his expression revealing he was about to break down. 

“I'm begging you...”

Someone so strong, someone with so much to be happy about, begging me to forgive them and give them a second chance. For Christs sake, he could have anyone he fucking wanted...

“Why me?” I questioned.

He responded immediately

“Because you're different, because I see so much in you that I don't see in other people.”

He went quiet for a moment, running his hand through his hair to try and get it out of the way of his eyes.

“Because I feel something for you I've never felt for anyone else.”

“Whats your girlfriend going to say about this?” I questioned. 

“My girlfriend? What girlfriend?”

I looked at him confused, trying to remember what he'd said on the glider about 'not telling his girlfriend' he'd grabbed me.

“You said you had a girlfriend on the glider”

It seemed to suddenly dawn on him, and he rolled his eyes.

“It was just something I said to try and keep you off track about how I felt” he desperately said.

“So there's no girlfriend?”

“Not in a few months” he replied. We were quiet for awhile again.

“You're not fake” he muttered out, looking down at his feet. “Its like its not possible for you, and I fucking love that.”

He paused, trying to find his words.

“You have this air about you that just... its so different from everyone else at this shitty place that its addicting. You're not trying to be anything else than yourself and its exactly what I've been looking for.”

From there, I just stared at him for awhile. I don't know what overcame me, but he was so gorgeous, even sitting there. 

“Okay...” I whispered.

“Okay?”

“I'll give it... you... another shot.”

He let out an exasperated sigh of relief, and leaned back, lying on the floor. 

“Thank you so much” he let out.

I smiled and scooted forward, taking his hand in mind. He turned his head towards me and stared for awhile, before sitting up and leaning towards me.

“You're not going to be alone in this.” he whispered.

“Alone in what?”

He reached his hand out and held the side of my head, running his fingers through my hair before I felt him tap the side of my head.

“With fighting whats in there.”

I smiled, though I couldn't form words to reply to him. His hand moved from the side of my head to the  back of my neck and slowly pulled me forward as he cocked his head slightly to the side. I pulled back, and he looked at me surprised.

“We can't just go back to where we were before everything happened.”

His hand slid away from my neck and returned to his lap. He looked at me for awhile, before nodding forlornly. 

'That doesn't mean you have to be cruel' a part of my head told me. 

I sighed and leaned forward, placing my hand on the back of his neck. He looked up with a surprised expression just as I pressed my lips into his and kissed him passionately. As his arms wrapped around my body, I ran my hand down his side from his ribs to his hip.

He pulled back slightly, whispered “Mein Schatz”, then continued our kiss.

It didn't last more than five seconds before I pulled away, but he smiled brightly. I couldn't help but bite my lower lip, ignoring the taste of blood from his wound on my lips.

I didn't know why, but somehow that wound just... changed things.

'Jesus fucking christ... that's the Crown Prince I just kissed!'

We both rose to our feet a few minutes later, and I watched as he peaked his head out of my room for a moment, before returning.

“Hmm, seems like they left” he remarked.

I nodded; I guess he hadn't seem them peaking in on us in the middle of our kiss.

“You should go, god forbid someone sees us” I remarked.

“What are they going to do?” he questioned, pulling at the rank patch on his shoulder. 

“I don't know” I shrugged, smiling. “Tell everyone?”

“We'll just have to make sure everyone knows before that becomes a problem.”

“How do you propose going about that?”

“Oh, I have my ideas.”

“Despite your position and your family?”

“My family knows what I am. They've known for a year or two now. My Dad's just picky about who I choose.”

I looked at him curiously; it never truly hit me what it meant being with him, especially considering our countries... current outlook on people like me. 

You know, gay people.

“He didn't, you know, freak out when you told him?” I questioned him, sitting on the edge of my bed.

“I mean, he wasn't happy at first ofcourse, it took him some time to get used to the concept, and he probably still needs to be shoved along, he's just worried about who I end up with.”

“What do you mean, who you end up with?”

He sat down next to me and sighed.

“He's probably just worried I'll end up like one of those guys in the American pride parades, you know? Speedo and all that? He doesn't want me to be an embaressment”

I couldn't help but blush wildly at the image of him in nothing but one of those speedos and a pride flag stuck in the side.

“I really don't see that” I remarked, looking him up and down. “You're very prim and proper.”

“Eh, when I have to be I am.” he shrugged.

“So it seems like you always have to be, judging by how you're always dressed and acting?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“But don't worry, you're exactly the kind of guy that my parents'll swoon over” he smiled. 

I nodded slowly. Though I hadn't tried to think about it, the prospect of meeting his Father and Mother, the Emperor and Empress, was absolutely fucking terrifying.

“And if I were to say 'no' to meeting them?” I questioned, smiling.

He leaned forward, whispering; “Leck mich am Arsch!”

I smirked, responding;

“Sei doch nicht so macho, eh?”

He leaned forward and pecked his lips against mine, pulling away shortly after.

“I'm just being myself”

“Which is how I prefer you” I responded. 

I watched as he stood up and looked me over, reaching his hand out.

“Damn you'd look so good in a tux...”

I took his hand and he pulled me up, though I gave him an inquisitive look.

“A tux? For what?”

“Oh, nothing.”

I looked at him curiously, but he didn't provide an answer. I watched as he walked over to my door and fiddled with the doorknob that was clearly half broken.

“I don't know if I'm comfortable with you in here overnight without a door that locks.”

“We're not even allowed to lock our doors, Albrecht” I responded.

He looked at me confused, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?”

“We aren't allowed...”

“Whats the point then?”

I shrugged.

“Stupid fuckin' place.”

“I'll be fine, I promise you.”

He nodded.

“I'll wake you up in the morning just to be sure.”

I squinted at him;

“Why do you need to do that?”

“I mean, tomorrows Sunday.”

“And?”

“You're going to say no to me taking you out on Sunday brunch?”

“I mean, are we really ready for our first date?”

He sighed, though with a smile on his face.

“I mean, why not?” he asked.

I couldn't really give him a good excuse, though in truth once he left I'd look at my wallet to make sure I could actually afford it.

“We'll see” I replied, smirking. 

I looked over at the pistol that lay on the floor next to my dresser, and slowly walked over to it. As I bent over to pick it up, I could hear his boots carrying him across the room.

“I'd also feel safe keeping that, wherever you got it from.”

“Armory” I replied, scanned over it As I looked towards him, he leaned in and ran the back of his hand against the burn mark that it had made on my neck. His other hand gripped the pistol and pulled it out of my hand, and slipped it in his pocket.

“I'll return it, then.”

I nodded, shrugging. 

“Just make sure to actually return it, alright? I can't afford the late fee” I asserted.

He nodded, smiling. 

“You don't need to worry about that kind of stuff”

There was a hell of a lot of work to do before we got back to where we needed to be, but maybe, just maybe, it'd work.  



	20. Chapter 20

I'm lying to him. 

I just... I didn't know what to say, alright?

What was I supposed to say when he asked me that question? When he stood in front of me, crying his eyes out, having just tried to shoot himself under his chin and through his skull?

I couldn't tell him the truth... I just couldn't. I couldn't look him in the eyes and tell him that my father was furious when I confessed my sexuality to him. I couldn't explain to him that my father had told me it was just another example of how much of a failed son I was, how much of an embarrassment I was. I couldn't explain to him what it was like to hear my father scream at me and tell me how much of a disappointment I was last year when I tried to drown myself under the ice during one of our cold-water swimming tests. I had wanted to escape from all of this so badly, but then Friedrich came into my life... and things started to change.

I couldn't let that feeling go. It didn't matter that I had fucked up before; it didn't matter that, for a short moment after we'd shared that... admittedly drunken night in my room, I was scared of the repercussions. That I was scared of what my father might do if he found out Friedrich and I were in a relationship together.

I couldn't tell him that my father told me he wished he had someone else for a son other than me. I just... I couldn't, alright? I don't expect you to understand. I can't expect you to react, considering you've probably never been in a position like mine. I just... I needed him, and the only way I could bring him down from that ledge was to tell him everything would be alright.

It would, in the end, right?

My father would eventually die, and he couldn't kill me or send me off to some re-education camp, I at least knew that much. Maybe he could have ten years ago, maybe even five years ago, but not anymore. I wouldn't be silent, and there were people out there that would do everything they could to make his life, to make our countries lives, a living hell if they found out about that sort of stuff.

I remember listening to my father complaining one night about President Obama, from the United States. He was complaining about how he had put the pressure on him at a recent meeting to put a stop to all of the anti-LGBT violence that had been going on here recently. The States had just legalized same-sex marriage a year before, and strengthening their ties with a country like ours, a country that was, at times, openly homophobic on a scale comparable to Uganda, wasn't acceptable. 

Especially not when we were European. When we were supposed to be fair minded, fair handed, and fair tempered. He did do something about it; laws were put in place banning the... the things... that were done. It upset some, but in the background, my father understood that it was for the better. Having a close relationship with the United States, for the first time since the war, was extremely important. It meant having a friend that was strong, and meant an alliance that could protect against the bear a few hundred miles to our East.

When I was younger, I was different; I loved the arts, found myself engrossed in the classics of literature, and hated sports. When I was young, it was alright; my mother always protected me, told him that I would grow out of it, or that it was just a phase. That a time would come when I would realize that, while these things were nice, I needed to grow up and become strong; become a man, like everyone else did.

Sort of like my sexuality was supposed to be a 'phase'.

I didn't have a choice but to change, at least outwardly. I still loved reading, but I took up sport; any sport, so long as I could excel at it. Golf, rowing, football, lacrosse. 

Lacrosse at least gave me the chance to run. Metaphorically speaking, it let me run from my problems. It was an American sport; one that their Natives played, perhaps on the open 'prairies', as the Americans called them. To me, it was freedom; the faster you ran, the better you were. So long as you held your head up to the sky and kept watch, you'd be good. 

I guess it was a metaphor for what I wanted to be able to do; to keep my head in the clouds and keep running until I was free.

I didn't have a choice but to be strong, at least outwardly. As the years passed by, and I did my best to present myself as the Hero and Posterboy of our country that my father wanted, perhaps needed, me to be, things became... acceptable. I would still bide my time by reading the classics on my tablet or listen to old music on my phone, but outwardly I needed to be strong to keep him happy.

Just long enough for him to croak. 

Just long enough for the poll numbers to become undeniable.

Times were changing; we all knew it, including my father. As my generation started to grow older, and now grow old enough to vote in the parliamentary elections, things would change. What the old generation wanted would become 'an option' instead of what 'would' be done. As even L.G Academy-goers began to think differently than their instructors and leaders-gone-by, things would change.

You know things are turning against the old-generation when the students of the nation's foremost political academy begin to think that what was done during the war was morally atrocious. You know things are turning around when sons of factory-workers and farmers are willing to fight _for_ their friends when they come out of the closet, instead of fight against them. 

My father was fifty-seven; He and my mother had me comparably later in life. He'd have to abdicate the throne to me eventually, and when that time came, there'd be no going back.

Until then, I needed to remain strong; at least on the outside. At least around everyone.

Everyone but Friedrich. 

Friedrich. I've fallen harder for him than I could ever imagine falling for someone. It was unrealistic; someone as brave and strong as Friedrich, whom showed interminable resolve in the ring, being gay... just like me.

He would sit and let me read passages out of my favorite books to him, try and talk with me about various classical artists and playwrights. He didn't know much, but at least he _tried_.

I remember hearing the news about what happened with him and Erik and feeling like the world had fallen out from under my feet; not only were two other guys in the academy gay, but Friedrich of all people. He was so far from who I was that, early on, it seemed impossible. How could someone -so strong- be just as gay as I was?

Friedrich; I'd be lying if I were to say that he weren't one of the people I imagined being with, and doing things with, in the middle of the night. I wasn't obsessed, at least in the beginning; he was just one of the innumerable attractive guys who I imagined doing innumerable monotonous, daily things with. It never got past that.

At least, not until Siegfried told me about what they were doing to him. I blew a gasket; to hear that people were literally beating him into the medical ward angered me so much that, for the first time in my life, I found myself using my position for my own advantage. I had some of his tormentors kicked out of the academy, had him promoted, and when it finally came to a head, helped Siegfried and the others stop them just as they were moments away from throwing him into the pool unconscious, probably killing him.

To see him like that.... to see someone who literally gave off an air of strength.... so hurt.

To see [i]him[/i] hurt. To see tears welling from his summer-blue eyes, to see blood pooling from his head, his mouth, and his chest, to see him limping to and from class. To see someone so strong... so weak.

To see someone so undeserving of the pain... effectively tortured for months on end. To see someone knocked from their pillar and broken into progressively smaller and smaller pieces.

It killed me. 

But it also made me realize that I was a fool for not taking the chance; for not reaching out and trying for -something- with him.

“Albrecht?”

Why couldn't my father understand? Why couldn't he just change his mind? 

Why couldn't he realize that if he would just accept who I was, he could have the son he always wanted? Someone brave and stoic; someone who, in another age, would probably end up a hero of some great war? Wouldn't having a son who filled his standards by marriage, someone like Friedrich, be enough for him?

Why couldn't he just give me this?

He was too old to have another child anyway...

Why couldn't I be good enough for anyone but Friedrich?

Friedrich... whose arms wrapped around me so tightly that night. Who, despite everything he'd been going through, still had the capacity to make -me- feel safe. 

There was so much I wanted to tell him, and so much I wanted to do with him. I wanted to take him on trips around the world, I wanted to rule with him by my side, arm in arm. I wanted to show him off to everyone; to prove that people like he and I were the same as everyone else.

I wanted to take him out to brunch, to sit with him in front of some random cafe in the middle of the capitol city and not have to worry about the paparazzi taking pictures of us, because the more they took pictures the more some kid like me, somewhere off in the Golderfeld or the mountains, would realize that they didn't have to kill themselves because of their sexuality. 

I wanted to curl up in bed and have him wrap his arms around me, to feel his biceps pressing against my frame, his foot slowly running up and down my calf. I wanted to be able to wake up in the middle of the night, peel his arm off of me, and tiptoe to the bathroom in hopes of not stirring his gentle figure awake. I wanted to be able to watch the way his athletic figure laid quietly in bed; the way his chest gently rose and fell when he was asleep.

That was why I lied. That was why I told him that my father was fine with my being gay. 

Because I wanted to be with him so badly that I began the foundation of our relationship on a lie, knowing how it would end. Knowing that someone like him needed to be able to trust someone, and that I had already broken his trust so badly once... that..

That I knew when it all finally came out; that I had lied to him just so I could feel his arms wrapped around my chest a few more times, that it would all crumble to pieces. That it would break apart so quickly and so violently that I'd have no choice but to end my own life.

That I couldn't be happy without him.

I knew it would end badly, and yet I still lied to him. 

“I hope you can forgive me.” I muttered under my breath.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning; Sexual Assault.

It was sometime in the middle of the Sommerloch; that period in the middle to end of summer when everyone is on vacation, when the news and media have nothing to report on, that things really started to pick up for us. The irony, I guess; It was that time of year when the heat is so unbearable that by early morning its already hot enough for you to be sweating when you rise from bed.

That sort of heat where you lie down and your sheets feel different; it doesn't matter that you washed them a day or two ago, they feel like plastic... and the way they stick to your back when you're trying to get out of bed, god, I hate that feeling. I hated the summer, and I hated July most of all; the heat fucking sucked.

I was a winter kind of guy; having your breath turn to fog in the cold air, having to use extra blankets, waking up to cold feet, it was all stuff that I adored. Pumpkin spice wasn't my thing, but I adored the cakes that my mother would make during Christmas Time; she'd make one with pumpkin, cranberries, and walnuts. It was one of those things I missed so much...

The only thing that made this heat bearable was Albrecht; the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months. We'd shared that first kiss in... I think towards the end of May, perhaps early June. Save for the short... respite... between when that night happened and when I tried to kill myself and he came to stop me, we'd been together for a few months now.

They were slow months; mostly at my own request. I hadn't told Albrecht about the night terrors I had, and I was trying as hard as possible to get the memories of Erik out of my head. The few times we'd shared a kiss in the past few months, my head would suddenly be filled with memories of the time Erik and I shared together. I didn't want to move things too quickly for fear of something triggering a flashback. I hadn't had one of those in a long time, but I knew as I went further and further with Albrecht, they'd show up.

Come to think of it... I suppose this is the first time I've told you folks about... the nightmares.

I didn't want to put him through that; I knew that when it came, I wouldn't be able to control myself, and we'd likely go from some sort of passionate moment to one where I was screaming with my head between my knees and he'd be absolutely freaked out, unsure of what to do. Maybe I'd even accidentally turn violent, trying to protect myself from a danger that wasn't there. My worst fears told me that something like that would give him a reason to leave me.

That he didn't want to be with someone so broken he couldn't even share a romantic moment together.

I couldn't let that happen. I wasn't going to let the nightmares and memories steal this opportunity from me.

The more time I spent with Albrecht, the better things seemed to get. This feeling began to bubble up in my stomach that this was my life, and no matter how slowly it took, I'd take it back. No matter the fact that we'd only kissed four or five times in the past two months. No matter how long it took us to get from short kisses to passionate make-out sessions. No matter how long it took to get from those to...to something more.

He was patient. Though we never talked about it, he seemed to understand that after what happened with Erik, it would take time for me to be willing to do the things we wanted to do together.

I think it was a few weeks after I tried to shoot myself that I realized there was something on earth that was worth fighting for besides my country for the first time in... in probably my whole life. It was Albrecht; it was the feeling of his slender frame in my arms, the feeling of his lips against mine, the feeling of his hands running through my hair, Or his palms against my hips. His smell, the way he walked, the way he spoke.

The way he looked at me, no matter where we were, no matter if people were around.

His smile.

He was worth fighting for. He was worth staying alive for.

The way he begged me to spend time with him every chance we got. The way he opened up completely around me; he turned from the poster-boy that I'd grown up wanting to become, to someone so different yet still just as admirable. He loved art and literature, wrote poetry, and loved listening to older music. He'd sit and read passages out of books that I'd never heard of, from authors who died a hundred years ago, for hours on end, and I'd just sit in his reclining chair in his room listening to his voice.

It was all worth staying around for. Thats not to say that I still don't feel like ending it all some nights, and its also not to say that I'm... completely happy, I guess. But I'm getting there.

It didn't seem to matter to him that I often didn't understand the point of the story; everything he read had a moral undertone or was some sort of romantic novel. I loved things like the Lord of The Rings; they were the only books I willingly read when I was a child, everything else I read was required literature as I grew up. History books about the war, diaries-turned-epics about heroes gone by, fairy tales about knights saving the princess. I liked all of that stuff, but it wasn't on the scale of what Albrecht would read to me. He'd get so engrossed in it that I'd fall asleep and he didn't even notice.

That was precisely what I had done; it was a Friday night, and the heat of the summer was unbearable. It started on Monday, with the temperature idling around 32 degrees and eventually rose to what felt like at least 40 by this afternoon. Most of the guys had been pulled out by their parents for their summer holidays, but Albrecht had stayed around. I wasn't sure why, though I figured it had to do with me; he told me this was the time he usually went on vacation, but that he just didn't want to go this year.

I sat in one of his recliners as he laid on the couch and read from his favorite books, reading different passages, poems, and chapters for hours on end. He adored, no, loved, the classics; his bookshelf was filled with authors from around Europe. His favorite author, however, was someone I was embarrassed to have never heard of; Stefan Zweig. He was slightly chuffed at that, but explained to me his importance, and how before the Nazis rose to power he was one of the most popular writers in the world. He explained what humanism was to me, and how this guy's simplicity in writing style really helped with understanding the works he made.

None of the stories he read were of gallant heroes, none of them were of soldiers saving the lives of innocents or defeating the evil enemies they faced in battle. They were poems and love stories, but also glimpses into the lives of people whom lived so long ago. To be honest, though interesting, I was more interested in Albrecht; the way he spoke so passionately about the authors, the way he recanted the passages from the book, the way he was able to rattle off facts without even having to think twice about whether or not what he was saying was true.

I liked the other Albrecht, the one who showed strength, stoicism, and grace, but I was falling in love with this one. As he continued to read from his book, I must have fallen asleep. How couldn't you with a voice as soft as his?

I must have been out for awhile, because when I woke up the sun was setting through the large windows on either side of his flat-screen television. The hum of the air conditioner was still going full-blaze, but Albrecht had gone quiet. I slowly sat up in my seat and rubbed my eyes, looking across from him. His eyes were open, so he was awake, but he was staring down into a closed book.

“Albrecht?” I questioned.

He didn't respond. I stared across at him for awhile, and could see his eyes move, but he didn't look up at me.

“Albrecht?” I beckoned a little louder.

He muttered something, but I couldn't hear what it was; his voice was too soft and too quiet. After awhile, he looked up at me and offered a smile.

“Everything alright?” I questioned.

“Of course. How was your nap?”

“It was fine.” I replied, stretching in my seat. He smiled and I smiled back, and I'm relatively sure we just sat staring at each other for a few minutes before my stomach broke the silence and reminded me I hadn't ate lunch, not to mention dinner.

“I figure I should get on going now and find something to eat before the mess hall closes,” I remarked as I stood up, looking for my uniform tunic.

“Isn't it closed already?”

“Uh, what time is it?”

“Around eight”

“They close at like... nine thirty during the summer, remember?”

“I... I'm not sure about that”

He gave me this strange look, one that I just... couldn't place what it meant.

“I can just get us something delivered... some real food, Chinese, Sushi, Turkish...” He remarked.

“I mean, I'd rather just go and get something from the cafeteria, its free after all...”

He rose up from his seat and looked at me. I could see his Adam's apple rise and fall is if he had just taken a large drink of water, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Albrecht...?”

“Is it about the money?”

Fuck...

“...what do you mean?”

He stared straight into my eyes, giving me a gaze that felt so heavy I had to look away.

“Is it about the money?” He asked again.

“I... no.”

You're lying to him, Friedrich. He's been open with you, you know...

“It is, isn't it...?” he quietly asked. I didn't want to admit it, but it... it sort of was. It wasn't that I was unwilling to spend time with him, it wasn't that I couldn't afford it, though admittedly I couldn't afford to eat out nearly as much as he liked to. I didn't make a lot of money, and with most of it going back to my mother to take care of the family, I didn't have much left for myself.

He stepped closer, and though I could tell he was looking at me, I couldn't look back.

“Is there... a reason?”

There was. I never spoke to anyone about it, but... it had to do with what happened with Erik.

I... I guess I haven't been forthright with you; I haven't really... spoken about what happened with him outside of vague mentions and references to things that happened. I suppose it... its sort of important that I talk about it; its probably whats kept me from being... intimate with Albrecht, after all. It's probably why our relationship has been so dull.

I'm honestly surprised Albrecht hasn't given up on me already; after all, I'm not really giving him anything. I think from the way I've spoken about him in the past, you guys know that some shit happened with him.

He and I were more than roommates; though originally we were just friends, as we spent more and more time together I began to realize that I had feelings for him... sort of like the feelings I have for Albrecht. Not the same, and not the same attractions, but I was attracted to him none the less. It went unnoticed by him for awhile, until I apparently admitted to him during a drunken slur after winning a boxing match that I had the hots for him.

From there, things went.... fast. I hadn't minded it at the time, he was the first person I'd been romantic with since I was around fifteen, but I didn't want things to move that fast. I wanted something real, not something wholly sexual in nature, but... apparently that's not what he wanted.

We had a fight one night that turned... bad... for me.

“Friedrich...?”

I looked up at him and sighed, looking around for a place to sit. I slumped back down into the recliner and ran my hands through my hair for awhile before looking back up at him.

“It's,” I paused. “got to do with... um,”

I paused, finding myself unable to say his name.

“With what?” Albrecht interrogated.

I just... couldn't say it. I could feel my throat tightening as the memories of that night filled my head. I hadn't thought about that night, and what happened in so long, that everything started to flood back into my head. All those months of trying to forget what he'd done to me, rushing through the gates and breaking down all of the guards I'd worked so hard to put up.

It felt like it was all happening again; I was shaken from my slumber by Erik hovering over me, his hands holding me down by my wrists as he kissed my neck. The way he talked... and the way he snarled when I told him I just wanted to go back to sleep, that I didn't want to do anything that night. I... I still wonder if I should have just let him do that, that maybe if I had gone with him, he wouldn't have done what he did next.

“Friedrich?” Albrecht questioned, seeming agitated. I couldn't help but flinch; I didn't even raise my hand to defend myself as I backed away from him.

“I... I'm sorry, please don't...”

Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder shaking me, and a deep, agitated voice that seemed all too familiar filled the air around me.

“Friedrich!”

Out of the blue, I found myself suddenly falling to dizziness; I tried my best to prop myself up on the arm of the chair, but could feel myself falling back into it.

“Please...” I begged as my vision started to blur.

There was this... this strange smell of smoke in the room; not like marijuana, but like tobacco. It smelled like cigarettes, like the kind that... that Erik smoked. I looking around the room, and before I realized it, I found him standing in front of me.

His fist was already half-way to my face, and I didn't even have time to try and dodge out of the way. It felt like a fucking train hit my jaw...

“You son of a fucking bitch... I'll teach you not to tell me no” Erik spat.

“No, please,” I cried, trying to fight him off “I'm sorry, we can do whatever you want, just please, not again”

I rose up and tried to dart out of the room, but he grabbed me, and before I knew it I was pinned up against the dresser and...

His voice filled the air, it was agitated and angry as he gripped my boxers and pulled them down.

“Come on now, you owe me. Think of all those times we went out, all those restaurants we went to that I paid for. You owe me... and its not like there's any other way for you to pay me back, unless you have all that money...”

“Please... I'll pay you back, just give me time...” I pleaded.

“No, we've taken this slow for long enough, now its time for me to get something I want. Either you pay me back now, like this, or with the money.”

“Please”

“You have it?”

“You know I...”

Suddenly, my head was slammed into the wooden drawer. It hurt so fucking much...

“I thought not. Then this is it.”

And then.... then it started. It hurt so fucking much, and he just wouldn't stop. The way he pinned me against the dresser, the way he laughed at me when I started to cry. It felt like forever, but I knew it wasn't. It just...

I don't know.

It hurt, okay?

It wasn't the first time I was supposed to have...

He... he finished, and pulled out, and I slumped to the floor in a pool of my own tears. Everything was a blur for what felt like ages.

The next thing I could see was him pulling his pants up and moving to walk out the door, a lighter in his hand.

“Oh come on, you got off on that just as much as I did” he said, staring at me.

“You didn't even fight back, so you must have.”

That sentence hurt the most... because maybe, just maybe, it was true...

Maybe it [i]was[/i] my fault.

“Friedrich, please, say something...” a soft voice pleaded. It wasn't Eriks, I knew that.

Maybe I [i]did[/i] deserve it...

I just... I wanted to feel something, alright? Was that too much to ask?

The smell of smoke subsided, and I could feel bright rays of sun on the right side of my face. It didn't hurt anymore.

I wanted to be close to someone for once. I'd lost my family and my friends, and finally there was someone who was like me, and who liked me...

“Friedrich, please...” A voice quietly said close to me. I looked up to find Albrecht sitting in front of me, his hand gripping mine. He looked terrified.

_'Oh no...'_

“Friedrich...” be begged, trying to get my attention.

_'You fucking did it, Friedrich. You ruined this relationship too. Good job you fucking moron, if only you had actually defended yourself against him, maybe you wouldn't be such a sack of shit like you are now'_

I looked him straight in the eyes, but couldn't say anything. I knew what would happen.

I knew I couldn't go back.

Nobody wants someone with as much baggage as me. Nobody wants someone whose gone through what I've gone through. Who can't offer that first time without being terrified.

I tried to say something to him. I tried to beg him to forgive me for what had happened, but I couldn't. The more I tried to say anything, the more my throat clenched up.

“Are you alright...? You were screaming....”

I just ruined everything... with someone that actually seemed to care. With someone that was willing to go as slow as I needed to, all because I couldn't fucking defend myself from someone pinning me against my own dresser and pulling my boxers off of me.

“...about Erik...”

“I'm sorry,” I cried out, trying to shield my eyes from his gaze.

“Friedrich...”

“I should have defended myself... I should have fought him off...”

_'Maybe if I had tried, I would have....'_

“Friedrich, you don't have to justify what **he** did to you without your permission...”

 _'He doesn't want you here, just go'_ the voice in the back of my head demanded. All of the work I had done to try and move on... gone in an instant.

"What did I do to deserve this, god..." I muttered.

"Fried-"

_'You fucking ruined it, Friedrich. You just destroyed the one good relationship you were ever going to have, just because you couldn't fucking defend yourself, and even after that, you couldn't keep the memories from fucking flashing back...'_

“I...I...I,” I stuttered, “I'm gonna go.”

I rose up from my seat and yanked my hand away from him, heading for the door. I had it open and was half-way down the hallway before I heard his voice again.


	22. Chapter 22

“Friedrich!”

I kept heading down the hallway; I wasn't ready to deal with this. I wasn't ready to deal with him rejecting me.

I reached out and pushed the door to the staircase open and was halfway through it when a hand grabbed my wrist and attempted to pull me back. I looked; it was him, with Willy a few steps behind him.

I turned away and began to try and step through the doorway when he spoke up.

“Please..” he pleaded; I froze and, finding myself unable to move forward, listened to what he said from there.

“Don't do this, please,”

“Let me go Albre-”

“Please.”

“You don't want someone like me. You don't need to deal with the shit I go through.”

“I know what my life is like without you. I don't want to go back to that.”

“You'd be better off like that than dealing with my-”

“Your problems won't go away if you leave me.”

I didn't have a response. I wish I did, but I couldn't muster one. There were so many things I wanted to say, but if I was to get him to let me go, I couldn't say them. I couldn't let him on to where my head was taking me.

“Please Friedrich.”

I turned around and looked at him; he looked so worried; the gentle frame of his seemed guarded, and he stood in a position that I knew meant that if I tried to go for the stairs, he'd race after me. Willy was gone; back down the hallway, standing guard.

“Just let me be at peace...” I muttered out.

He didn't speak for awhile, but his grip on my wrist remained just as tight as I turned to walk away.

“Is being with me not peaceful?” he asked. His voice was different; it wasn't agitation, no, but perhaps the voice of someone scorned. “Because if it isn't, I'm sorry.”

“It...”

“There are other ways of doing this, Friedrich. You don't have to play this lonesome character... I'm trying to be there for you. I'm opening up every part of my life to you... but you won't open anything in return.”

“I tried... and you just saw how well it went,” I replied. He didn't respond for awhile; instead, he just chose to stare straight into my eyes. That kind of eye contact -hurts-, you know?

Its that kind of staring that makes you want to look away, but you know if you look away you'll hurt them more than its hurting you.

“You don't deserve to go through this trouble. You didn't do anything to deserve-”

“You didn't do anything to deserve what was done to you, Friedrich. For christ's sake, I...I...”

He didn't continue; his voice seemed strained, and he covered his mouth and let go of my wrist.

He was quiet for awhile, watching me as if he expected me to run. I had the chance to, but for whatever reason, I hesitated. I stood there looking at him for awhile, expecting him to say something. He just looked at me.

“If you fucking kill yourself...” he shuttered. I wanted to reply, but I couldn't.

'How does he always know..?'

“If you kill yourself, I won't be far off.”

“Albrecht, you can't-”

“Just... know that if you insist on it, die knowing that your life was my life's best part, and that I won't last long...”

“I dont understand...” I replied.

Why would he care this much?

“Why don't you understand, Friedrich?” he asked, almost as if he were begging.

“Why someone like me? I'm just the son of a farmer, I have nothing to-”

“Friedrich, why do you think I care about that? Why do you think I care about wealth, about family, about any of that?”

“I... you're the... the Prince...”

“And do I not therefore have the right to date anyone I want?”

“I-”

“Maybe, just maybe, you're everything I've ever wanted. Maybe you fill every single checkbox on my list?”

“How-”

“Maybe you make me feel safe... when not much else does.”

“You-”

“I lied about my parents, Friedrich. My father thinks my being gay is nothing more than another reason to be disappointed in me. That its just another stain on the family reputation, and that I've been nothing but an embarrassment from the start. My mother doesn't care, but then again, she's never cared about me to begin with...”

There was a noise at the bottom of the long flight of winding stairs, and I looked down below to see the figure of who looked like Christoph starting to make the journey up to our floor.

“I should go,”

“You should stay with me.”

“I-”

“I promise you nothing will happen that you don't want to happen. Just... please...”

“I haven't any-”

“You can stay in my bed, you can use my shower, there's no reason for you not to...”

I stared at him for awhile; I wanted to, but I just... I didn't feel like I... I don't know.

Perhaps I didn't feel worthy.

“You don't understand how much it would mean to me...”

I just stared at him. After a moment, he held his hand out.

“I need to shower, I need-”

“You can use my shower”

“But my shower caddy-”

“Just use my stuff.”

“I would still need clothes”

“I'm sure you can fit into some of mine, if not we can have Willy go to your room and get you some”

I just stood there and stared at him for a few seconds.

“Please...” his voice pleaded; his eyes gave off a sense of weariness. I was about to take his hand as a different voice broke the silence.

“Hey guys” a familiar, cheery voice spoke up. I turned to find Christoph standing there smiling at us both.

“You'll never guess what just happened” he remarked with a wide smile on his face. I looked him other; though he had his uniform on, it was buttoned only halfway up and gave off an appearance that he'd just run out of somewhere in a hurry.

“Oh? What” I questioned, looking between him and Albrecht.

“Kathrina...” he said with what seemed like a lustful tone of voice. His mouth formed into a huge smile, though all I could do was stare at him with a look of confusion. Albrecht was busy looking between Christoph and I, though focusing on me more than him.

“Oh my god, she's good...” he remarked as he ran his hand through his brown hair, messing with his already disheveled undercut.

I rolled my eyes; really? You're talking to -us- about -this-?

“What did she do?” I asked with a half-sarcastic tone in my voice.

“Oh my god... her lips dude” he said as he pointed to his crotch.

“You finally got blown?” I asked, “Took long enough, even Albrecht and I got-” I joked, though he interrupted me flabbergasted;

“I, What!? But you two are, and she isnt... what!?”

“Calm down, he's joking” Albrecht replied, his voice sounding somewhat irritated. I looked over and tried to get him to look back, but he was focused on Christoph. Christoph was one of... perhaps three people that knew about us, and he only found out by accident; he walked into us kissing in the washroom, though we didn't know until a few days later when he finally confronted us. He wasn't mad; he was just upset that we'd hid it from him.

“Oh, well,” he stammered “I guess that makes sense, considering you two don't really roll her way”.

“Is she better than Tjaden?” I joked. He looked at me annoyed, though didn't reply.

The rumor floating around, though we knew it not to be true, was that he and Tjaden were... intimate, to say the least. One couldn't really blame them if they were; they were both shining examples of male beauty.

I looked back at Albrecht and found him staring at me, gaving me a desperate look. Even though Christoph was there, Albrecht seemed to have no interest in putting up any guards. He looked at me desperately, and it was like his gaze went straight into my head and started beating the shit out of my consciousness, because my head started to fill with thoughts of regret;

How could I treat him like this?

“Oh, Friedrich, did you get the mail I left on your bunk?” Christoph questioned.

'Mail? Who would have sent me mail...?'

“Uh, no, I haven't been back to my room today. Who sent it?”

“I don't know, I don't look at peoples mail!”

“Well, what was it?”

“A small brown box; it looked like it came a long way.”

I stood there confused for a moment, trying to think whom could have sent the box, from where it had come, or what it contained. There really was no one to send me mail...

“So, you two heading out, or?” Christoph questioned, breaking my focus. I looked up at him, then looked over at Albrecht as his voice broke the silence.

“We..” he said; before he continued, I interrupted him.

“No, we're just heading in for the night” I replied, looking down at Albrecht's hand that had fallen forlornly to his side and slowly slipping my hand into his grip. Within a few seconds, Albrecht was gripping on it tighter than a vice, and his lips pursed in a small smile.

I watched Christoph look down at our hands and back up at us before cracking a smirk.

“Well, just don't be too loud you two. I've got to get up early in the morning to head out for family holiday.”

And with that, he walked past us and down the hallway to his room.

After he was far enough to not hear us, Albrecht looked at me with an air of suspicion; “Are you serious?”

I turned to him and rubbed the side of his hand with my thumb. His hand gripped mine even tighter, and he let a small smirk rise across his face.

'His hand is so soft...'

“Of course I am” I muttered. I stepped closer to him, and before I knew it I had my arms wrapped around him.

“I'm sorry I'm like this...” I whispered; I was embarrassed, to say the least, but his small frame fit so perfectly in my arms...

“Don't apologize for who you are,” he replied into my ear. I couldn't control myself, and leaned in, kissing him on the cheek.

“You don't have to kiss me there, you know,” he whispered.

“And where am I to kiss you then?” I questioned.

“On my lips.”

I could feel my face go flushed, and couldn't put myself to look at him. His hand took my wrist and slowly started to pull me down the hallway.

“You said you'd come back to my room, didn't you?”

I smiled and nodded; we traveled back down the hallway and into his room, and I watched as he disappeared through a doorway to another room that I'd never been in. A few moments later, he stepped back out with what seemed like a towel and a few other things in his hand and walked over to me, holding them out.

“A towel and some clothes, since you're so insistent on showering,” he remarked with a smile.

I smiled back, though I didn't say anything as I found myself more preoccupied with chewing the side of my cheek trying to control myself from throwing the clothes to the ground and embracing him. He pointed to the door on the opposite side of the room, and I looked at him confused.

“I mean, you know where the bathroom is, but in case you forgot”.

“Oh” I smiled, nodding as I turned and walked towards the washroom.

“Oh, Friedrich!” He interrupted as I was stepping through the doorway. I turned, still holding the towel and clothes, and looked at him curiously.

“What... did you want me to order?”

“I, uh...”

That half of my head that insisted anyone ever paying for anything in my life was going to come back and ask for something in return ticked back on, but before I let myself get upset, it physically felt as if something took that little person in the back of my head and beat them with a baseball bat. I could feel a slight throbbing in the back of my head and winced, before looking up at him.

“Anything is fine,” I replied.

Albrecht smiled, hopping onto the love seat in the middle of the room and grabbed a binder off the end-table next to him as I swung the bathroom door closed.

His washroom was... nothing like the communal one. A double sink made of real marble, fine tiled floors, brass towel hangers, and a shower with a real glass door; the shower looked like it was meant for a god. There seemed to be no shower head, but when I leaned in and turned the knob, it rained like a waterfall from the tiled roof and water sprayed from the sides of the tiled shower, as if it were a rain forest whose mist completely enveloped you.

I slowly undressed before I stepped into the cool water and found myself completely hypnotized by the feeling; I must have stood there taking it all in for at least half an hour before I began to search for Albrecht's soap and shampoo. A green bar that smelled of pine trees sat next to a large blue bottle labeled with something in English that I couldn't understand, though I imagined it was what I assumed it was. Perhaps this was the secret as to why his hair was so soft?

I'm unsure of how long it took for me to decide I was done standing in that waterfall, but it must have been quite a while, because as I turned the shower off and stepped out to begin drying myself off, there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Friedrich? Are you alright?”

“I'm alright” I replied, patting myself dry with the soft blue towel.

There was quiet for awhile; I could feel he was worried. He was probably right to be; I wasn't the most emotionally stable boy, after all. Not since what happened with Erik, at least.

I stepped forward and stood against the door, replying;

“I promise, I'm alright. I'll be out in a few minutes, okay?”

“Tja,” he replied, “I hope you like Turkish!”

I smiled and continued to dry myself, before examining the clothing he'd lent me; how could someone so much thinner than me have anything that could possibly fit?

There didn't seem to be a shirt, but there was a red pair of athletic shorts that seemed like they might fit, along with a pair of boxers that...

My face went beet red, and I paced for a few minutes before getting dressed and stepping out of the bedroom, the towel hanging around my neck; Albrecht was slumped on the couch with a large headset plugged into his laptop, listening to music as he seemed to be scrolling down a website. As I walked across the room, he didn't seem to notice me; his music was relatively loud and I could see him bobbing his head up and down to the beat. It was only as I walked around the table to sit next to him that he looked up at me, pulling his headset off and folding his laptop closed.

“How was your shower?” He asked

I sat next to him; closer than he probably anticipated, and looked at him with a smile.

“Well?” he questioned.

“It was... nice” I replied, rubbing the back of my neck.

He pointed to the brown bag sat atop the table and spoke up.

“I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just got a bunch of stuff, hopefully you like at least something I got.”

“It doesn't matter what you got, I'll like it.” I smiled. I leaned in and found myself putting the palm of my hand against his cheek, rubbing my thumb against his temple. He smiled, and his eyes sparkled.

“Though, I'm not sure how much I like the boxers you left me” I whispered.

His face went red and he let out a small laugh, revealing that he knew what he'd done.

“Really? Pink?” I questioned, pulling the side of the shorts down to show the pink fabric to him.

“My mom sends me things but doesn't think of if I like them or if they're the right size, she just buys things...”

“And so you decided to give them to me?”

“I thought you'd like them...” he said, his voice giving off an air of embarrassment, and I regretted the tone that I'd spoken to him in; I didn't want him to think he'd made a mistake...

“I didn't say I didn't.”

“So... do you?”

“They're much nicer than mine. Much softer, but not loose anywhere.”

“That's because all you wear is what the school gives you.”

“And is that so bad?”

“I...”

He looked at me and smiled.

“No, but... it doesn't mean you shouldn't know of the finer things.”

“I'm only a farmers son, Albrecht.”

“So was Isaac Newton, and so is Prince Charles, and many great authors and musicians and poets and-”

“But I am to be none of those, Albrecht.”

“Says whom? I must argue the opposite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I would not be falling in love someone who is nothing more than a strong athlete. You have many layers to you.”

As he uttered that last sentence, he leaned in stared at me, as if asking for permission to do something. I looked at him confused, but as he leaned forward even more, I understood. He wanted permission to kiss me.

He wanted **permission**.

I didn’t nod, I just leaned forward and closed the gap, pressing my lips against his. Moments later, I wrapped my arms around him as his hand pressed against my bare chest and ushered me to lie down on the couch.

“I'll teach you all of the things you don't know how to do” he remarked, running his fingers through my hair.

“Oh, such as?”

“Well, waltzing, the great artists, things like that” he replied before pressing his lips against mine again. I couldn't help but smile.

“And perhaps I'll teach you a few things,” I replied mid-kiss.

“Such as?”

“Not letting your food get cold, for one...”


End file.
